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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27619534">The Glue That Binds Us Together</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/typewrittencurlie/pseuds/typewrittencurlie'>typewrittencurlie</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Teen Wolf (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alpha Peter Hale, Bad Alpha Talia Hale, Bad Friend Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Bisexual Stiles Stilinski, Druid Stiles Stilinski, Everyone Is Gay, Everyone Needs A Hug, Fix-It of Sorts, Good Peter Hale, Intersex, M/M, Mates Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Not Canon Compliant, Peter Hale &amp; Claudia Stilinski Friendship, Peter Hale is a Softie, Sane Peter Hale, Sheriff Stilinski Knows About Werewolves, Warning: Kate Argent, Werefox Stiles Stilinski, Werewolf Derek</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 03:41:45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>34,609</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27619534</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/typewrittencurlie/pseuds/typewrittencurlie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>{Stiles}</p><p>I remember the day when the guy I thought was  my best friend completely turned on me, almost like it was yesterday. It wasn't, fyi, but it feels like it. For future reference, I'm Stiles. Well, I go by Stiles, but my real name is Mieczyslaw Stillinski. Yeah, if you're thinking it's borderline child abuse, I don't blame you.</p><p>Anyways, this is the entire story of how I lost a brother, and gained a Pack, and a heck of a lot more.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Chris Argent/Peter Hale, Derek Hale &amp; Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>251</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So, for any and all future reference, Smiles is 17, and Derek is 19</p><p>Just so everyone knows.</p><p>Also, I was sort of inspired by another fix, Take my pride, Take my life, Take my body, but don't take the ones I love, by BedlamAtDawn, and FunkyRaccoon. Sort of, I got the intersex Peter hale idea, and Peter as Derek's mom, but that's about it. If you're looking for something exactly the same, try again. </p><p>Good? Okay roll fic!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>{Stiles}</p>
<p>I remember the day when the guy I thought was  my best friend completely turned on me, almost like it was yesterday. It wasn't, fyi, but it feels like it. For future reference, I'm Stiles. Well, I go by Stiles, but my real name is Mieczyslaw Stillinski. Yeah, if you're thinking it's borderline child abuse, I don't blame you.</p>
<p>Anyways, this is the entire story of how I lost a brother, and gained a Pack, and a heck of a lot more.</p>
<p>🌙</p>
<p>So, just any other Thursday, for everyone except me, and my best friend Scott. You see, he'd gotten bitten by a wolf a few nights ago, a <strong><em>wolf.</em></strong> And now I'm ninety nine percent certain he's a werewolf. Probably a hundred percent, but just to be safe, I'm hedging my bets. Now, typically, Scottie's a nice guy, not too much of an asshole, but, well he's got his moments.</p>
<p>And something just doesn't sit right with me when Scott accuses Derek Hale, a guy maybe two or three years older than me, of murdering someone. His only sister and him left town after his whole family burned to death in a tragic fire. The only person who made it out of the fire was my mom's best friend, Derek's uncle, Peter Hale. Uncle Peter, who babysat me until I was like, eleven. Until he was pulled from a two story blaze, and put in a medical coma as he healed.</p>
<p>He's still in a coma, b-t-dubs, and it's getting harder and harder to believe he'll come out of it. I just wanted to hear him call me Little Red, his personal joke. Since I apparently resemble Little Red Riding Hood so much. And he's the Big Bad Wolf!</p>
<p>So much more accurate, in hindsight. Really.</p>
<p>Just, it's hard to believe someone who has been through that much would murder someone. I mean,  he's definitely got issues, but not like, serial killer type issues. More like, "make Stiles question his sexuality issues."</p>
<p>But, I can't bring myself bring myself to refute Scott's outrageous claim, at least, not until that certain Thursday. Oh, Thursday lets out a whole new can of whoop ass.</p>
<p>I pulled Scott behind a corner as I eavesdropped on my dad, the local sheriff. "What are they saying?" I ask motioning behind me to where my dad was talking to a few other adults, and I can't help it that my arms flail about as I beg him to listen in. "Please?!"</p>
<p>"Okay fine." Scott's eye color shifts golden, as he uses his super skill to hear. "They're putting up a curfew." Scott turns back to me, and glares, muttering, "And Derek, the real killer, is just walking free. They think it's an animal."</p>
<p>My gut drops, knowing that if I don't say something like, now, then Scott is going to do something crazy. Something crazy that puts the guy who's already been through more hell  than I can possibly guess, through even more pain. I rub my mouth, looking at Scott,and I just know he'd do it. "Scott, I don't think it's Derek." I shrug, as he smacks me, giving a what the fuck? expression. "I dunno! I just don't think it was him who bit you!"</p>
<p>"Stiles, he's the werewolf!" Scott all but shouts, and I don't know what to do.</p>
<p>My arms flail about again as I try and rationalize with my best friend, as he stays stuck believing Derek is somehow evil. I mean, I know Derek looks fucking terrifying, and rightly so, but I dunno, kinda getting the feeling he just needs a hug. I feel that way about a lotta stuff, like, you know sometimes you just got to just hug it out. Let all that shit go, you know?</p>
<p>"Scott, I just don't think it's him!"  I duck back behind the corner as my dad walks by, and add, "I know his uncle. And if he grew up with that guy, there's no way he could kill anybody. Not when you've eaten Uncle Peter's cookies. They are like manna from heaven." I give him a blank look, as he growls and stalks away, like did I say something wrong? </p>
<p>Not to mention that I'm still pretty pissed at him for not believing me in the beginning. I live researched all night for him. And the fact <strong><em>he tried to eat me!!! </em></strong></p>
<p>Yeah, not forgetting that juicy piece of information. Totally not forgetting that.</p>
<p>And frankly, best friends don't do that to each other.</p>
<p>So, I continue on about my day, and mind my own freaking business when Scott tells me he wants to find the other half of the body. I'm not driving him to the preserve just so he can find someone who got cut in half. And may or may not have been attacked by an animal.</p>
<p>By the time school lets out, Scott is blowing up my phone, asking for a ride to the preserve that night, and I just freaking ignore him. I'm so not helping him dig up more actual anguish in poor Derek's life. Derek, the tall, dark, broody  guy who may or may not be exactly my type. Like I don't know, but actually, guys like him feature heavily in the porn folder of my laptop.</p>
<p>I can't believe I just admitted that I have a porn folder. I need serious mental help. Yep. No question.</p>
<p>And it doesn't make any sense! Why would he cut her in half?! What the hell is going on!</p>
<p>I sigh as I go to cook my dad something actually healthy for dinner, seeing as we would just be eating takeout otherwise, and poor Dad's cholesterol can't take McDonald's hamburger meals every night. No way Jose.</p>
<p>By the time I've got the chicken off of the grill pan, and get the salad made, dad's hanging up his coat and gun and trying to not groan at the 'rabbit food' I'm making. "Hey, Daddio!" I call, looking up and grinning as he sits down, resigned to his fate. "So, grilled chicken on a Caesar salad, with some low carb croutons." I proudly display the delicious meal I had painstakingly crafted for hours. Okay, like an hour. Half an hour.</p>
<p>"Did you finish your homework, son?" He asks, in lieu of eating the meal. I nod, pointedly adding the low fat dressing and taking a bite.  Dad grumbles something under his breath, and I distinctively hear the word rabbit.</p>
<p>"So, any leads on the dead body?" I ask, taking advantage of the lull in conversation. </p>
<p>"Stiles." Dad levels a glare at me, eating at last. "I'm not telling you about the case." He waves his fork at me, adding, "Not until I can have real food."</p>
<p>I beam, going back into the fridge and pulling out a special little bribe. "Is this good enough?"</p>
<p>Of course the burger was a bison burger, not a real burger, but he doesn't need to know that.</p>
<p>"Alright, then." Dad grins, chowing down on the burger, and wags a finger, saying in a stern voice, "Her name was Laura, Laura Hale. Derek's sister and Peter's niece."</p>
<p>"Oh, my God," I mutter. "That's horrible." I didn't really know the Hale kids all that well, Cora is - was - about my age, but we didn't really hang out all that much. Mostly what I remember was Peter. Uncle Peter. He'd been there since before Mom got sick, and watched me when I was just a tot. He always called me Little Red, or Pup. And he just gave the ultimate mom vibes.</p>
<p>"I know you were close with them." Dad puts down his burger, wiping his hands on a napkin, as he thinks. "I don't know how anyone could do this." He looked so lost, as he chews on the bison. "This tastes off. Are you sure the beef was fresh?"</p>
<p>"It was fresh..." I grin, sheepishly adding, "Fresh bison." I muffle a snort as dad tries to glare at me, but can't, because the burger was actually tasty. I know he'd just pass it off as "acceptable," but I also know when he likes something.</p>
<p>"But, I mean, are you sure it was murder?" I hedge, eating the last bite of my salad. "What if it was just an animal?"</p>
<p>"The way we found her lower half, it was like... Like someone literally cut her in half." Dad groans, like this is the last straw on his back. I know what that's like, like one more thing is going to break you.</p>
<p>I certainly know that feeling.</p>
<p>"Hey," I mutter, "Dad, you're going to figure it out. I know you." I try to give him a grin but manage to mess it up somehow by the look on his face. "I'm gonna go and do some stuff." I roll my eyes at his snarky comment and head on up to my bedroom and my cork board. I mean, now Laura?</p>
<p>It's certifiably insane. I mean, all the shady stuff that happened around the fire? There's no way that eleven people died in a faulty wiring fire. And — </p>
<p>I groan at the wall of newspaper clippings, and old photos, and tiny strips of red yarn connecting the fragments. But it was all so... <em>Nebulous</em>. I couldn't figure out exactly what all of these dots were supposed to connect to. I look back at the old picture sitting on my desk, of me, and uncle Peter. I had to have been like, seven, and I'm dressed up in a red hoodie, and he has this huge grin.</p>
<p>I'm on his shoulders, my hands pulling at his face, and it's so... Happy. I remember that day, when Mom was still okay. Dad had gotten called into work and I was being my usual bratty self. Uncle Peter was usually the one to help me burn off all the extra energy.</p>
<p>And now, now he doesn't even blink when I say hi. I really need to get back and visit, he's probably super lonely. </p>
<p>The guilt pulls at my chest, as I think of what happened to him. I just don't know why anyone would want to hurt them. Not Peter.</p>
<p>And Derek was just a freaking kid! So were a lot of the people in the fire! Who, who the hell kills kids?! I look back at the pictures. I mean, the only people who could possibly, possibly do anything like this would be Hunters. But the Hales  don't kill people, they were actually... Nice, for lack of a more apt description.</p>
<p>They weren't monsters. So what if they could turn into wolf-people. They were family, in a way. And Derek... Derek is... Derek is something. It just feels like I know him, from somewhere. He's just... Important. Somehow.</p>
<p>Aaargh! I just can't figure this out!</p>
<p>I'm just about ready to tear down my entire crime board when I hear a soft knock on my door. "Come in!" I growl, as I glare at the cork board that has completely consumed my life. </p>
<p>"Hey, kiddo. What's up? You..." Dad looks over my shoulder, even as I try and hide the board. "You're looking into the fire." It wasn't  a question. His face doesn't seem disappointed, though, just... Sad. "Stiles, this won't bring him back. This won't change anything."</p>
<p>"Dad, I'm ninety nine point nine nine nine percent certain that it was arson. The fire Marshall said there was a lot of accelerant used. Like a lot." I run my hand over my buzz cut, feeling the fuzziness of my hair and sighing. " And then there's the reports, something about someone..."  I puff out my cheeks as I exhale, utterly ridiculous as I just want things back to the way they were.</p>
<p>"I know that there's a lot of stuff going on in this town, Stiles." Dad puts his hand on my shoulder, his face kind. "Anything you want to talk about?"</p>
<p>"I... How well did you know the Hales?" I ask in a small voice. I don't want to keep this crap in anymore. "Like, bff's? Or like mild acquaintances?"</p>
<p>"The Hales in general? Not very well. But Peter, and his family? I knew those guys pretty well." His smile is like, tragic now, the way he seems to have water brimming up in his eyes.</p>
<p>"Who were his family? I only ever remember him." I sigh, and sink into my desk chair. "Did you know about the other stuff?"</p>
<p>"Stiles?" Dad perches on the edge of my bed, eyebrows furrowed. "Stiles, did you find out?"</p>
<p>"So you know." I puff, leaning back in my chair, running my hands over my face. "You know about werewolves."</p>
<p>"I know about Peter and Derek. The rest of the family, not so much info." Dad sighs, patting my knee. "I'm going to let Derek tell you what he knows, before I open my fat mouth. Not all secrets should be blabbed by a crochety  old man like me."</p>
<p>"How, though?" I ask. "I know Mom and Peter were friends..."</p>
<p>"It was almost two decades ago, when Peter was hardly older than you, neither was your mom, and we helped him out." Dad grins, mussing my hair, and laughs. "Just don't work too hard. I'm going back into the station for a while."</p>
<p>"Alright, pops." I grumble, flicking the light on so I could see as the sun starts to go down. </p>
<p>I  eventually suss up the courage to hop in my jeep, just as the street lamps start to flick on. I know it's crazy, but... I gotta talk to Derek. I gotta know what all of this crap going on means. Because it has to mean something.</p>
<p>The preserve is totally giving me the whole murdery psychos vibes, like giant, evil creatures are gonna jump out at me. But, it's for Derek. I wanna help. Even if he has incredibly judgey eyebrows. The judgiest.</p>
<p>And I don't know where else to look for him except the preserve, near the ruins of his old house. It's really sad to think of him there, in that shell, alone. I mean, it like physically hurts me. </p>
<p>"Derek?" I call, looking around as I wander through the pitch dark forest, and try not to get eaten. "Der-bear?" I try not to scream as I hear a twig snap behind me. "Derek? Sourwolf, it's me." I feel my heartbeat accelerating as I slowly turn around, trying not to panic. </p>
<p>As my puny flashlight shines on the forest trees, I nearly lose my grip.</p>
<p>"Jesus, man," I gasp, as Sourwolf gives me like extreme sarcasm, a completely flat expression of disapproval. "Don't scare me like that." He has this - this little smirk on his face, like he thinks I'm an idiot. </p>
<p>"What do you want?" </p>
<p>"I just wanted to talk. I know Scott isn't your biggest fan..." I shrug, a half smile on my face, as Derek blinks. "I just want to find out who murdered your sister."</p>
<p>"Why?"</p>
<p>"Because I care." I shrug helplessly, a sort of half hearted gesturing going on with my arms, as I try and get him to see reason. "I mean, you seem all alone, and Peter was a huge friend of my mom's." I pause, swallowing. "I'm not gonna lie, I miss him. He let me talk, you know, without getting all pissy."</p>
<p>"I... It's only going to end badly." Derek has this look on his face, a look like he wants help, but at the same time, is convinced that I'm  going to hurt him, one way or another. "Everyone I love dies. That's just the way things are." He shrugs, looking broodily off into the middle distance.</p>
<p>"Well, let's change that!" I cry, reaching out to pat his shoulder, until he growls at me, his eyes flashing blue. "Sorry."</p>
<p>"Please... Just don't."</p>
<p>Alright. No touching. I can handle this.</p>
<p>"So, do you have any place to stay? Like permanently? Cause you can't keep living..." I trail off, gesturing to the Preserve at large. "It's not safe." I tack on at the end, hoping  that he doesn't get pissed off.</p>
<p>"I'm fine, Stiles." He looks at the ground, his eyes dark, and I just wanna make him see that he's not a monster. I've never seen someone so obviously hate themselves. "Your father probably wouldn't want me in his house anyway."</p>
<p>"Well, let me at least ask him." I roll my eyes, scoffing as I pull out my phone. Dad answers on the second ring. "Hey, Dad, listen...."</p>
<p>
  <em>"Stiles, what are you doing? Where are you?"</em>
</p>
<p>"I'm in the Preserve, trying to rescue a werewolf damsel in distress." Said werewolf is giving me growly eyes, and has his arms stubbornly crossed across his chest. "Can he... Can Derek crash in the guestroom for a couple of nights?"</p>
<p>
  <em>"He's been sleeping on the Peserve, hasn't he?"</em>
</p>
<p>Odd. Dad doesn't sound mad, just like he's used to this. Used to Derek being like this. Weird.</p>
<p>
  <em>"Yes, Stiles. Derek can stay."  </em>
</p>
<p>I sigh, beaming at good old Derek, Derek who still gives me like, bats in my stomach. Like literal bats. "Thanks, Dad. We'll be back in a bit."</p>
<p>
  <em>"Just don't get hurt."</em>
</p>
<p>"Gotcha." I hang up quickly, grinning foolishly. "So you get to crash." Derek doesn't seem to understand what's going on, like there's some joke, but he doesn't see the punchline.</p>
<p>"Stiles. You. Don't. Know. Me." Derek punctuated every word with a soft growl, his electric blue eyes wide, and filled with this unimaginable level of pain. He whines softly, like a puppy, and it really shows that he's not nearly as old as he looks. "You don't know what I've <em>done."</em> His voice is just a whisper, and it nearly kills me inside. He's just a teddy bear, really. Just a big, fuzzy puppy.</p>
<p>"I'm sure that you didn't do it on purpose..." I murmur, looking up into Derek's icy blue eyes, glowing in the dim light. "I know you're good, Der-bear. I can just feel it."</p>
<p>"Stiles." He whines again, eyes flaring a brighter blue in his hurt. "I'm not safe."  </p>
<p>"You won't hurt me." I whisper, smiling up at him. I just sometimes know things, like, like in my bones. And I just know that Derek would never hurt me. Not on purpose. Not if he could help it. I just know.</p>
<p>"Stiles, I don't trust myself." </p>
<p>I simply smile, tugging his arm softly as he whines. "Come on, Sourwolf. Let's go home."</p>
<p>🌙</p>
<p>{Derek}</p>
<p>I remember quite clearly when I found my mate. The day I discovered so much I lost might yet be found.</p>
<p>My name is Derek Christopher Hale, and this is my story.</p>
<p>🌙</p>
<p>I was always... Always alone. My Pack, they never truly fit. I loved my family, of course I did. But the only person who truly smelled like <em>Pack</em>, and  <em>Home,</em> and <em>Mine</em> was Uncle Peter. He... He never treated me as an outsider, as an other, someone who didn't fit.</p>
<p>He made sure I had at least one of the gifts I'd asked for on Christmas and my birthday. </p>
<p>Mom would flash Alpha eyes, and growl at him, when he scented me. It never felt right when she yelled at him, he was her Left Hand, he was my uncle, he was protecting me. Why...</p>
<p>And then when I was just a pup, just a stupid, foolish <em>pup,</em> and I.... </p>
<p>Mom turned me against him, after Paige. </p>
<p>And then there was <em>Her,</em> and there was <em>Pain,</em> and I was <em>still</em> just a pup. And She killed everyone. And Uncle Peter can't even smile, can't call me <em>his</em> pup. Not that Mom truly let him.</p>
<p>Then Laura wanted to come back, to find who was left. </p>
<p>I should have known it was a trap. I never should have let her leave. </p>
<p>And now there's <em>Stiles.</em> Stiles who is afraid of me, but is kind. Stiles who is <em>Mine,</em> and mine only. Stiles, who I glimpsed in the hall when uncle Peter was in the hospital, who left him a card, every day before I'd gone.</p>
<p>Stiles who is <em><strong>Mate.</strong></em></p>
<p>🌙</p>
<p>When I climb into the powder blue Jeep my mate proudly calls, "Roscoe," it smells like everything good and right. Like marshmallow fluff and coffee and Stiles. I clench my aching jaw, begging my wolf to calm. My fangs are desperate to descend, my eyes still glowing blue in the side mirror as we head to Stiles' home. I shiver softly despite my leather jacket, and try to ignore the happy chatter Stiles keeps up as we drive.</p>
<p>"So, you ever have like, you know, puppy piles?"</p>
<p>The innocent question draws my attention, wondering if he is referring to a Pack Bonding. He glances over at me, eyes bright in the last dusky streaks of sunset. </p>
<p>"You know like big piles of werewolves, all like snuggly. God, that sounds so warm."</p>
<p>I find my  face moving without my knowledge, and train the smile into a smirk. "They aren't called puppy piles." But I can't not tell my mate about my world. A world my wolf is begging me to invite him into.</p>
<p>A brief silence follows, and before I can blink, were pulling into a quaint house in Beacon Hills, and he cuts the engine.</p>
<p>"I know you weren't the one who bit Scott."</p>
<p>His voice is almost a whisper as I turn, my hand on the door latch. He looks at me with his perfect eyes, and simply tells me, "I know you didn't do it."</p>
<p>His heartbeat is the same, even rhythm it's been for the entire journey.</p>
<p>"I'm not Alpha." I step out of the run down Jeep, and don't look back as I walk up to the house, Stiles following. I instinctively try the knob, but Stiles interrupts, holding up his keys with a smile. "Thank you."</p>
<p>"No probs."</p>
<p>He grins at me as he opens the door and invites me into his den. Its a warm place, homey and soft, and smells so much of my mate that I want to <em>die.</em> Stiles gives me a small tour, showing me his den, and I place my scent in small places, places he's frequently at. I want him to smell like me, so that everyone knows he's mine.</p>
<p>I shake my head sharply, my mind filling with the thought of running my hand over Stiles' neck, as I'm giving him my jacket to wear. No. I don't want to force Stiles. He's barely sixteen, and doesn't know.</p>
<p>"Hey man, you okay?" </p>
<p>Stiles is looking at me, eyes worried, as I stare at the fridge. Aside from a few junk magnets, and a notepad, there's one thing on there. Peter is standing in between a woman I don't know, and the sheriff. He's holding a small bundle, and he's smiling my smile. The smile he saved for his pup.</p>
<p>I feel my eyes burning, and my cheeks are wet, as I look at how happy he was. "That's my uncle."</p>
<p>"Yeah, and my parents. I'm not sure who the baby is though. It isn't me."</p>
<p>I whine, brushing my fingers over the happy people in the photo. The sun had faded most of the colors, but I knew the blanket. It was the one uncle Peter gave me. I still had it, back in New York. It was in a box, because Laura thought it was worthless.</p>
<p>"It's me." I take a deep breath, trembling. "He's holding me." I don't understand why Mom just let him take me, I was just a newborn then. I couldn't have been any older, by the size.</p>
<p>"That's sweet."</p>
<p>Stiles smiles at me, as I turn, giving one last keen for the happiness of the picture. For how Peter was before the fire. "Thanks. For letting me stay."</p>
<p>"Any time."</p>
<p>I follow Stiles up the stairs, as he continues the tour, and shows me his room, his den. My nostrils flare, my eyes going almost blue, as I smell his release, just a few days old. It makes my wolf hunger for him, and I instinctively take a step backwards, looking at the ground.</p>
<p>"Hey, you can come in." </p>
<p>Stiles' voice is soft, reassuring, as he leads me gently into the room. He murmurs soft nothings I don't quite catch as he plants me in his desk chair. I keep my wolf in his tiny cage, where he can't hurt anyone. Especially not Stiles.</p>
<p>"Derek, listen, if you ever want to, just, just talk..."</p>
<p>Stiles' whiskey and honey colored eyes glimmer in the dim light, and I look away, unable to stand the acceptance there. I didn't deserve this. I didn't deserve him. I'm worthless, just a stupid bitch, just a dog. I should have been drowned at birth like the runt I am.</p>
<p>"Derek!"</p>
<p>I flinch, hunching my shoulders as my hands come up. I hadn't realized that was out loud.</p>
<p>"Derek, Derek, buddy, look at me."</p>
<p>I carefully bring my hands down, my blue eyes reflected in Stiles' amber ones. His hand is running up and down my forearm, and I shudder, gasping with how right it is.</p>
<p>
  <em>Mate likes us. Mate wants us safe.</em>
</p>
<p>"Shut up," I mutter, clenching my teeth. "Stupid wolf." I dig my claws into my palm to regain control, barely breaking the skin before Stiles is calling me back.</p>
<p>"Der-bear, please, please don't hurt yourself."</p>
<p>His voice is hoarse, pained, as trickles of hot blood drip from my fist, and he's staring at it, breath coming quickly, his heart racing.</p>
<p>"Just let me see how bad it is, Der."</p>
<p>"It's not," I mutter as I open my fist. Beneath the blood, the pricks of my claws had already healed. "I'm fine." I insist, as Stiles practically runs to get a first aid kit. "Stiles, I'm fine."</p>
<p>He seems to not believe me, as he cleans off the salty blood from my hand, and then pauses. He flips my hand over, and I let him move it around, searching for the wounds.</p>
<p>"Your hand was covered in blood. You were hurt."</p>
<p>"Werewolves heal fast," I explain, resting my slightly aching hand on my knee. Even as fast as we heal, there are some things you just can never fully heal from. "Most of the time."</p>
<p>"Oh."</p>
<p>He makes the soft noise several more times, in several different pitches, as he scratches the back of his head. Stiles glances up at me from time to time as he processes the information. Finally, he nods, getting up from the floor.</p>
<p>"Well, umm, your room is just next door."</p>
<p>Stiles looks at me curious, as I stare listlessly. I just don't know how this can work. Scott's going to lose control, hunters already killed Laura, and my strongest pack bond is with Peter, who's in a coma.</p>
<p>"Derek, do you — can I give you a hug?" </p>
<p>I look up sharply, as Stiles half smiles at me, expectant. I nod, and he carefully settles himself in my arms, his head on my shoulder and arms around my waist. He nuzzles me, and my wolf howls with triumph because our mate smells like us.</p>
<p>I press my nose into his shoulder, hesitant as I return the hug. I feel Stiles' heartbeat even out, slow as he relaxes into my arms. I almost can let myself have this. But when Stiles starts to get too comfortable in my arms, I shift his weight, carrying him the few short steps to his bed.</p>
<p>He looks so perfect asleep, so peaceful. Like there's nothing and no one bothering him. I swipe my fingers across his forehead, letting myself have this one thing, this one precious thing.</p>
<p>I leave silently, before slipping back to the preserve to get my clothes and the Camaro. Stiles is till asleep when I return, but the sheriff is waiting in the dining room, with a cup of coffee, and a stack of files. He looks up in curiosity as I enter the house, my shoulders tense.</p>
<p>"Hello, son." His voice is calm and even and only makes me more nervous. I'm in his den, and I want his son, and he's being nice.</p>
<p>"Hello, sir," I say stiffly, my body tensed in a fight or flight response. I don't - can't make the sheriff want me out. I haven't slept in a real bed since I came looking for Laura. And that was three days ago, not counting the time it took me to get here.</p>
<p>"God, I remember when you were just a baby. Your mom would be proud of you." Sheriff Stillinski takes a sip of the coffee and nodding to the empty chair beside him. "Can we talk? Unofficially?"</p>
<p>I carefully sit down, keeping my keys and my bags' straps firmly clenched in my hand. I don't like this. Not at all.</p>
<p>"I just wanted you to know, I'm sorry, about what happened to Laura. And the rest of the Hales." He looks back at the paper for a while, flipping through a few pages. "I know you're a werewolf, Derek. I've known since before you were born."</p>
<p>I shudder, my teeth clenching, and I try not to let my body betray me. "And?" I ask, my chin raised in defiance. I won't let him know I'm scared. I won't.</p>
<p>"And nothing. It's fine." He gives me a look, and takes a sip of his coffee, adding, "Could a hunter have killed your sister? Your mom... H- <em>She</em> said they come after people like you."</p>
<p>"Hunters killed my sister." I'm certain of it. Completely. "And either Peter or myself is next." I look down at the files, reading the cramped text. He was looking into the fire. I... I want to help. But I don't, can't talk about Her.  How She would hurt me, and ...</p>
<p>"You don't need to look into the fire. It was the Argents. Kate." I spit the name out of my mouth, wanting to immediately gargle and scrub the taste from my mouth. I can't imagine how he could prove She did it, and the statute of limitations is most likely up for the arson.</p>
<p>"I'll get her, son." Sheriff Stillinski nods, writing down a few scribbled notes on a yellow legal pad. "I'll make sure she pays." There's true venom to his voice, as if She had killed his family. As if She had raped him. "She murdered eleven people. And one of the last ties to my wife is in a coma. She's going to regret the day she ever picked up a match."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Tw for homophobia, &amp; f slur<br/>Scott's an asshole.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>🌙</p>
<p>{Stiles}</p>
<p>I wake up in the middle of the night, typical, after having gone to bed before ten. The last concrete memory I have of last night is Derek, and... Oh my God, I was totally in Derek Fucking Hale's arms last night. It couldn't have been more than a couple of minutes, and I was just so cozy and safe...</p>
<p>Oh hot damn. </p>
<p>This is like the first step of my five year plan! And he's already living here. I'm so far ahead of where I thought I'd be right now. And yes  I have a five year plan with Derek because Lydia is so last week. </p>
<p>I tiptoe to the kitchen, on the hunt for a late night snack of my secret donuts. I specifically hid them in a place dad would never look.</p>
<p>The salad drawer, behind a nefarious head of lettuce.</p>
<p>I don't pay attention to much else besides keeping quiet, until I stand in the kitchen looking at Derek holding my donuts with a very confused expression. He like, double checks that they are indeed donuts, and I just snicker.</p>
<p>He jumps about a foot in the air, nearly dropping my donuts, and flashes his eyes at me. "Don't sneak up on a werewolf, Stiles. You could get hurt."</p>
<p>"Oh, come on, you wouldn't hurt me." I pluck the box from Der's confused hands and pull one out, chewing it thoughtfully. I smile, as he looks back in the fridge. "Have anything you want, Derek. All for you." </p>
<p>He looks back at me in shock, like he was surprised he could have any of our food. He swallows nervously and picks up a small tub of leftover spaghetti. He looks at the home cooked meal like it was an alien as he closes the door to the fridge and pops it open. "It smells good." He looks up at me shyly and I smile, motioning with the donut for him to eat.</p>
<p>Derek makes a startled noise as he takes a bite after I hand him a fork. I grin, quipping, "I know, right? I kick ass at spaghetti!"</p>
<p>"You made this?" He asks, as he tries hard not to inhale the entire tub. I have no idea how long it's been since he had a good meal, and that's kinda sad. Like didn't he have anyone to take care of him?</p>
<p>"Derek, you're nineteen, right?" I look down at my sugar covered monstrosities, and swallow the sick feeling in my gut. The date on his baby picture is not even twenty years ago. I just knew that there had to be a reason why he was so messed up. He's hardly more than a kid, still a teenager. "I'm seventeen." I look up, trying not to blush. So what? I got held back a year when I was little, because I couldn't focus. But in kindergarten, my second year, I met Jackson, so, it wasn't too bad.</p>
<p>"Stiles, why... Why do you care? I... " Derek looks down at the spaghetti, not meeting my eyes. "Nobody else cared." I smile, nodding. His lips twist into the Derek equivalent of a smile.</p>
<p>"I care about you. It's weird, but... You don't scare me like I think you should." I shrug, not really getting it out right as I start on another donut. "I mean you look scary, but I just find myself thinking, hm, you look super warm and cozy."</p>
<p>"Thank you?" He looks bemused by my comments, and goes back to devouring the cold pasta. He stays quiet for a while, and I just let it hang, comfortable in it, not feeling the need to fill it. It's not tense like the silences are with Scott. Speaking of that fucker, I have to deal with him in like two hours.</p>
<p>Damn, its later than I would have thought. I expected just like, two or three, but it's pushing seven a.m. right now.</p>
<p>I look in the fridge after Derek scoots to the side, and carefully hide my donuts again. I flick my eyes up to him, adding a hushed warning. "Tell my dad those are there and so help me God, Derek Hale." He holds up his hands, still holding onto the nearly empty container. "Good. Dad has high cholesterol, pre diabetes, and just general unhealthiness. Keep any and all junk food well hidden."</p>
<p>"I understand." Derek watches me from the tiny corner of the kitchen bustle about, whipping up eggs, placing bread into the toaster, and generally taking care of my dad. He's got this like mushy expression on his gorgeous face, and I just can't  stop myself from humming as I dance around in my Batman jammies. "You love your father."</p>
<p>I jump, not having heard a peep, and nearly drop my Adderall  down the sink. "Shit!" I curse as I clumsily put the cap back on my meds after dry swallowing my pill. "Don't scare me like that, man!"</p>
<p>"Sorry. I didn't..." He trails off, frowning softly as he jabs at his spaghetti. "I didn't have that kind of relationship with my dad." His voice is just barely audible, and I take a small step closer, my head tilted a little.</p>
<p>"Der, did he hurt you?" I gently ask, standing just outside of his bubble, wanting to hold him again. He just has that look, like he was a kicked puppy for all of his life. </p>
<p>"No. He was just... Cold. He'd growl if I sought affection." Derek shrugs, swallowing nervously. His eyes flick up to mine, then immediately back to his food. I ignore the toast when it pops, wanting to hear what Derek has to say. "Sometimes I felt like I wasn't theirs. That I was a stray they found. That I was not-Pack."</p>
<p>"M sorry, bud." I whisper. "That's gotta be hard." I gently hold my hand an inch from his arm and ask, "Is it okay if I touch you?" Derek nods, a soft whine leaving his throat.</p>
<p>"At least I always had Uncle Peter." Derek takes his time swirling the remaining noodles in the sauce. "He was good. He was all the Pack I needed."</p>
<p>"Yeah, he was great." I gently stroke Derek's arm, marveling at how soft the hair on it was. Like just... Like a puppy. Derek is a puppy. He is <em>my</em> puppy. God, brain, really?  You really supply me with that info? I can't believe how ridiculous my mind can be!</p>
<p>"I was thinking about visiting him, later on." Derek looks up at me at last, his wide, multicolored eyes just hold so much hope in that look. "Can... Can you come with me? I'm afraid of how bad it is."</p>
<p>I sigh, smiling softly, and continue to stroke his arm. "It's not as bad as you'd expect. I just know he can feel me there. Hear me reading to him."</p>
<p>"You read to him?" Derek asks in mild disbelief, as if I shouldn't have bothered, because Peter wasn't actually part of my family. I chuckle at that assumption, nodding.</p>
<p>"He was like my second mom. Of course I still care." I smirk, adding in as a joke, "Plus, I'm learning telepathy, so I can pick his brain for that damn cookie recipe." I wrinkle my nose, as I grin. I will have those cookies again, or the world will bow before their new leader. Either one is fine.</p>
<p>Derek huffs, actually gives a little thing close to a laugh and shows me his adorable little bunny teeth, and I can't help but giggle.</p>
<p>Of course that's when Dad walks in, and grumbles. He gives us a look as he fetches a coffee cup, and pours himself a mug of the piping hot brew. He's not even dressed yet, and is a little fuzzy around the edges, just a grumpy old man trying to wake up.</p>
<p>"No sex until Stiles is eighteen." Dad grumbles, making me nearly fall over in anxiety. Like, how the fuck was I supposed to react  to that?! Derek simply nods solemnly, and eats the last bite of the pasta. "And —" Dad wags a finger at the both of us, threatening in his sleepiness — " No sex without consent. "</p>
<p>I like literally die. Just boom. That's it. End of Stiles Stillinski. Nope, no more, you killed him. Dead.</p>
<p>"Stiles. You're being dramatic, son." Dad glares at me on the floor, eyes glancing up at Derek, and then back at me. "I've had the horror of clicking on your porn folder." His smile is like a shark that's scented blood, and is going in for the kill. "You clearly have a type."</p>
<p>"And now for the method of my untimely demise. Hmmm," I muse, from my place on the floor. "Well, I always wanted  to see what it's like to pick a fight with a werewolf..." I look up at Derek, eyes begging him to rescue me from this unholiest of tortures. <em>"Pleeaasee?!?!</em> Help!"</p>
<p>Derek just looks at me, purses his lips and shakes his head. "I cannot argue with my landlord." He grins as I flop about like a dead fish until Derek nudges me with his toe. "If you get ready to go to school now, I'll drive."</p>
<p>I perk up, going up to my room and rushing through my morning routine, giving me just enough  time to scribble a few questions and pin them to the crime board. I mean, what if Derek's feelings were justified? What if he was adopted? Like a rescue baby?</p>
<p>By the time I'm back downstairs, Derek's twirling his keys around his finger, waiting by the door in his leather jacket and henley. Like can he look any more like the canon bad boy of every teen movie of the eighties? But then he smiled, and his whole face lit up, and he was my Der-bear, just warm and soft and cuddles.</p>
<p>"Stop! You're making me get all warm and fuzzy inside." I cover my face with my hands, and I shove at him. He smirks as he chivalrously opens the door for me, and I just can't help but think we have some sort of thing going on. Like Derek was something else.</p>
<p>He had like this tough, hard exterior, but when you give him space to be comfortable in himself, he turns all soft and mushy.</p>
<p>"Stiles," suddenly, as we pull into the school parking lot, Derek is serious, tense, as he chews on his cheek. "Stiles, be careful around Scott. He doesn't have a Pack, and he could go fully feral." Derek turns his eyes to me as he's about to get out, and he looks down for a brief moment. "He could actually hurt you."</p>
<p>"I know, Sourwolf." I sigh, letting him open the door for me. I fidget in front of him, wanting to give him a hug, so I just can say how I feel, but he's so...</p>
<p>"Stiles, I want to keep you safe," he murmurs. I can tell something werewolf-y was coming up, and I look up at Derek, eyes gentle. "Can I scent you? Just so you don't get hurt." Derek looks terrified as he asks, he keeps licking off the sweat beading on his upper lip, and I can only nod.</p>
<p>He slowly leans down, pulling me into his arms, and rubbing his hands over my back and neck, and presses his forehead into my hair, nuzzling me a bit. I swallow, as I hear a few whispers from passer by. He pulls away, seeming satisfied, and nods, brushing his large hand over my throat.</p>
<p>"Am I good, Sourwolf?" I ask, smiling. He hesitates, looking at my outfit, and nodding. I smile, giving him a little bit of my scent as I hug him, nuzzling his chest like he did my hair. "Pick me up and we can go visit uncle  Peter after school!" I call, as I sprint to my locker.</p>
<p>Unfortunately, just as I'm getting it open, and all of my books and shit ready to go,  who should show up but Scott? Wonderful, lovely, Scott, who not only tried to kill me, but then just brushed it off, like it was nothing. I can't just forgive him for that. And he can't blame it on the moon.</p>
<p>I flinch as his golden eyes glare at me, his face livid. "Why do you smell like Derek?!"</p>
<p>I master the fear, squishing it down into a deep dark crevice where I can't find it. "Scott, Derek arrived here Wednesday, as in the day after his sister was killed? You were bitten, and Laura was murdered on Tuesday." I shrug, my arms doing their own thing, as in don't maim me, don't like, kill me. I'm just a puny human.</p>
<p>"So, who bit me?" He asks, suggesting that it still was Derek, just by his tone.</p>
<p>"In my personal opinion, it was a passing Alpha, betas, like you and Derek, you guys can't turn people." I slam my locker shut after getting my books into my backpack, and I lock it with a decisive snick. I turn back to him, pissed now, because he's got these hurt puppy eyes like he's about to say he's sorry, and he didn't mean it.</p>
<p>"Scott, I don't know how to say this, but you're a really shitty friend sometimes." Jackson and Lydia are walking our way, but without Allison, so far and I grit my teeth. "Have you ever tried to listen when I was asking if guys thought I was attractive, or when I worry Danny doesn't like me?"</p>
<p>"No, because you're just being dramatic." Scott makes a little shrug, like what else was he supposed to think. And God damn him.</p>
<p>"Scott, I know I don't really look like it, but I'm bisexual. Leaning towards men." I shrug, as I get a crowd forming around me. I glare at this jerk as he just stands there. He literally is looking at me like I'm the bad guy here! "And, just so you know, Scott, those " dramatic " moments were me seeking validation. Because I'm into dudes."</p>
<p>"So.. You're gay?" Scott like, didn't hear a word I said. Not a single fucking word. </p>
<p>"No. I'm bi. I like girls, like you know, the normal amount. But I like guys a little bit more." I slow down my words enough for him to understand, for him to finally get it. "And Derek? The guy you hate so much you can't even see straight? I really like him."</p>
<p>"You can't like both. And even if you did like guys, that's just wrong! Like so wrong! How can you even think that way? Do you ever think of <em>me</em> that way?" Scott is practically screaming at me, and I take a step back, pursing my lips as I look at the crowd around us. I feel Jackson gently touch my shoulder, and I shudder.</p>
<p>"Scott, you just lost the only friend you ever had." I hate the way my voice is shaking, and I look to my right, as Lydia catches all of this on video. "I'm sorry, but... I don't think we ever were friends to begin with."</p>
<p>"Stiles, I can't be friends with you if you're nothing but a faggot." Scott tries to walk away, but unfortunately, he walks right into Allison. Right as she's literally crying, and casting looks my way like she's trying to comfort me. "Allison, come on."</p>
<p>"No. No, you don't get to go out with us this weekend. I'm taking Stiles." She wipes the angry tears from her face, as she takes deep breath in. "And by the way, I kissed a girl one time. And it was <em><strong>really</strong></em> good."</p>
<p>Just as the crowd starts to disperse, Coach Finstock is standing by the door to Scott's class, eyes squinty and shaking his head slowly. "You're off first line." That's all he says, and walks away, eventually making it to me. He smiles, kinda like he doesn't want to be saying this but he will anyway, "Stillinski, you are the bane of my existence and I can't believe I didn't see this earlier. So, that was why you wrote that paper?"</p>
<p>"Uhh... If I say yes, will you change my grade?" I grin hopefully, but get a <em>not a chance in hell</em> in response. Oh well, I tried. I turn to the small group of people I call friends, sort of, and just sigh. There's  nothing I can say, nothing I can do. </p>
<p>Jackson is the first to speak. "Mischief, I never hated you. Just hated McCall. Cause he treated my best friend like shit." I chuff running my hands through my hair, and I look back at my kindergarten through like, seventh grade buddy. We had been best friends, played with my action figures and my Nintendo. And I can't believe I ever ditched him. He gives me his little smirk-smile, and I pull him into a hug.</p>
<p>Lydia makes a disgusted noise, adding, "I want in on free hugs!"</p>
<p>I open my arms and pull the two girls in, and I mean this has got to feel like a puppy pile, right? All warm and huggy, and just great.</p>
<p> I break it off before I start getting weepy. Cause when a Stillinski cries, you bet there will be tissues and ice cream and Netflix. "Argh, go on with you, you heathens." I wipe my eyes, feeling the traces of moisture. "Go, before I sic my almost-not-quite-boyfriend on you!"</p>
<p>"Wait, since when have you dated, Mischief?" Jackson asks, punching me lightly, as he grins. "And when do we get to meet Mr Derek Hale?" Jackson you insufferable...</p>
<p>"We're kind of busy tonight. We're visiting his uncle in the long term care facility. His family... They died, everyone but Uncle Peter. But..." I shrug, withdrawing a little, an adding, "Peter always was there. When Mom died, then he went into the coma, I just lost who I was."</p>
<p>"Wait, was he the incredibly fashionable like twenty something guy who called you pup?" Jax interjects, looking like a lightbulb went off in his head, "I know where you get your disaster gay from at least!" He groans, laughing as he does so, and wipes the crust from his eyes. "This explains so much."</p>
<p>"Umm Jackson, fill us in?" Lydia glared her best glare at her boyfriend, and tilted her head, like she was trying to read his mind like professor X. "Details!"</p>
<p>"I will give the dirty gossip, thank you very much!" I cry,  hoisting my backpack higher. "Uncle Peter is like, he's in his mid thirties. Now. But when we were growing up, and Mom couldn't handle my ADHD, Peter stepped in, and like literally, any game we asked, even if I wanted to be a knight, and slay a dragon, he'd volunteer to be the dragon." I take a deep breath, refuelling my oxygen supply, "But then, just a year after I lost my mom, the Hales house burnt down. And Derek and Peter are all that's left. Laura got murdered a couple of days ago... So yeah, entire story."</p>
<p>"How can you fit all those words in one breath?" Allison mutters, before beaming at me. "I want to meet them."</p>
<p>"Me too! Boy toys and gay uncles for the win!" Lydia giggles, as she and Allison leave for their class and I have first period with Jax, in English.</p>
<p>"Hey, I'm sorry for, everything," I mutter, as we walk along the hall, and just manage to duck into the room by the last bell. I sit in the next row, and doodle in my notebook as the teacher drones on. I've read Frankenstein a million times, so I can afford not to listen. </p>
<p>I start working on a wolf mandala, because, why not? And all of a sudden, a little folded up paper lands on my desk, with a grin from Jackson before he goes back to his notes. I open it, because, of course, and there's just a little thing, a little message on the inside</p>

<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>I'm bi  too.</p>
</blockquote><p>My heart melts, and I just give him my shit eating grin, and I wanna be like, did we just become best friends? Again? But I've gotten yelled at enough for talking in class lately, so I'll have to wait.</p>
<p>🌙</p>
<p>{Derek}</p>
<p>I pull into the school parking lot, remaining in my car until I could see Stiles, not wanting the gaggles of teenage girls to flood my nose with their arousal. I watch the flood of students coming out of the building, and see Scott, see him casting glares at my mate, and I growl under my breath. He doesn't even understand what it means to be a wolf, and he thinks he can harm my mate.</p>
<p>I step out of my car, leaning against the door as I let out a low, rumbling growl that I know Scott can hear. His head whips in my direction, his eyes golden, and I let my eyes burn blue, lowering my chin in a challenge. A shiny sports car separates us, and just as Scott was about to start an attack, wiry arms latched around my waist, and I smell my mate.</p>
<p>"Hey, Der-bear!"</p>
<p>I smile down at Stiles, as he's petting my back beneath my leather jacket. He has a huge grin on his face as the teens stand a little ways off. "Stiles."</p>
<p>"Oh! Sorry, I forgot."</p>
<p>He tries to disentangle from my arms, and I pull him back, shaking my head. "Why is Scott angry?" I rub my hands over his back, drawing comfort from my mate, and send a vicious glare Scott's way. He vibrates with his rage, and I look back at my mate, who sheepishly buries his face in my henley.</p>
<p>"I came out, and told him off, and he's a homophobic bastard."</p>
<p>Stiles smells of fear, and pain, and hurt, and I place my hand on the back of his neck, squeezing softly. "He doesn't deserve you." I look to the three teens waiting by the Porsche, their eyes looking my way every now and then, hopeful and eager. They cast a glare at Scott as he rides past, and the male flips him off. "Do you want to introduce me?" I ask, holding him a little tighter. "Are these your friends?"</p>
<p>"Yeah! Guys!"</p>
<p>Stiles turns, waving over the small group of teens, and I smell something familiar in the male, but different, I frown, shaking off the cobwebs, and gently release Stiles.</p>
<p>"So, the strawberry blonde goddess here is Lydia Martin, the devilishly handsome one is Jackson Whittemore, and the angel in the leather jacket is Allison Argent." </p>
<p>I tense up, hearing the last name of the girl on the left, trembling slightly in Stiles presence, yet remaining stoic, not truly expressing my fear.</p>
<p>"Oh, I didn't... I'm sorry, Der-bear. Allison's okay, she won't hurt you."</p>
<p>The girl frowns, adjusting her bag and asking in a deceptively innocent voice what was wrong. I breathe in a deep whiff of my mate, squeezing his arm a little as I explain to the future murderer. "Our families have a very... Violent history." I keep Stiles in close, protecting my mate as I bite my cheek. "Forgive me if I say I don't trust an Argent."</p>
<p>Allison nods, expression kind, as her hands fuss with the straps of her bag. "I wouldn't hurt you. I don't want to hurt anyone."</p>
<p>"I understand." I look to Lydia, and Jackson, and I see a hint of something familiar in Jackson's face, a reminder of someone. "I promise I don't bite." I mean it as a joke, and Stiles laughs, but the other three seem a little tense, a trace of fear in the air. I swallow, adding, "I wouldn't hurt you. Not Stiles' friends." </p>
<p>The one named Jackson nods, huffing, and saying, "If you hurt Stiles, I will end you." He grins, softening the threat, and adding, "But he likes you, so I guess you can come with us bowling tomorrow." He wraps an arm around the strawberry blonde, and they maneuver into the car next to mine, as Allison hesitates.</p>
<p>"I swear, whatever my family did, I totally am not like that." Her face dimples when she smiles, and I nod tightly, giving the closest thing to a smile I can manage. </p>
<p>Stiles is softly petting the arm I have around his thin waist and I exhale, releasing him. I have to get this under my control. I can't force Stiles into a relationship, I can't. He looks up at me, a happy grin on his face, as I mess with the keys to the Camaro. </p>
<p>"You ready to visit Uncle Peter?"</p>
<p>He asks the question excitedly, bouncing on his toes. I can't say no to him when he looks like that, so eager. I nod, opening the opposite door for my mate, and letting him settle before getting in. He grins, dumping his backpack in the backseat after pulling out a book. <em>To Kill A Mockingbird</em>. Interesting choice.</p>
<p>"So, tunes?" </p>
<p>I glance over, as he fiddles with the cover of his book, and shoots glances at the radio. I nod, gesturing with one hand towards it. "Nothing too loud," I murmur. "Sensitive ears." Stiles nods, turning the job until he finds an alternative rock station, and sets the volume low. He looks up, eyes asking the question, and I smile, nodding. It was just right.</p>
<p>"Stiles," I begin, as we drive down the main road of Beacon Hills. "What if Uncle Peter is now an Alpha? The spark could go to him, when the hunters killed Laura." I sniff, looking ahead to the curve of the street, just before where my uncle's facility lay. I can only hope that the Hale spark could help him get better. That he could be waking up even now.</p>
<p>"How does it work? Could the spark have gone to him?"</p>
<p>"It didn't go to me, so," I exhale, turning my blinker on and pulling into the paking lot. "Maybe." I hesitate in the car, fearful of either outcome. If he was waking up, would he hate me for leaving? If he wasn't, then who was our Alpha? I grip the steering wheel tightly, as Stiles waits. </p>
<p>"Hey, it's gonna be okay." </p>
<p>Stiles gently holds out his hand next to mine, looking hopefully at me. He moves closer, a reassuring sentence on his lips.</p>
<p>"I'm here for you guys either way."</p>
<p>I exhale, letting go of the wheel and taking my mate's hand. He seems fine just sitting there with me as I gather the strength to go in. I have to do this. For Peter. "Alright."  I crack my neck, relieving the tension there, and let go, stepping out of the car. With a deep breath, I follow Stiles towards the door, nervous about the fate that lay behind it.</p>
<p>Uncle Peter still smells the same, like Home and Safe and Family. I hesitate in the door, even as Stiles just walks right in and sits down. I feel the tears on my face as I take the chair closest to my uncle, and tenderly pick up his hand.  I give it a gentle squeeze, holding myself back from actually sobbing as Stiles starts to pick up where he left off.</p>
<p>I chew on my cheek, simply holding Peter's hand, until..</p>
<p>Until I feel a slight squeeze back.</p>
<p>"Uncle?" I whisper, my eyes welling up as he squeezes again. His voice is hoarse, as he whispers my name.</p>
<p>"Pup, Derek." </p>
<p>The sound of Stiles' book dropping is the only other sound, as my uncle's eyes turn to me, and pretty soon his head. "Mine.<em> My</em> pup." His eyes flash red, and I gasp, kneeling in front of him as I place his hand on my throat, submitting to my Alpha. I feel my pack bond solidify, increasing tenfold, and Peter gains more life, more strength as I pull him into a hug.</p>
<p>"My pup, my sweet baby." His voice isn't the velvet it used to be, but as his hands card through my hair, and he trembles as I hold him, he still smells like Pack. "My son. Mine."</p>
<p>"Peter?" I ask, as he pulls back, the unburnt half of his face in a fond expression.</p>
<p>"You were mine. You were mine and that <em>bitch</em> stole you, and... My son." Peter wipes the tears from my face, as everything falls into place.</p>
<p>Peter, whom everyone said was my uncle, was my Mom. I shakily breathe in his scent, drink in my mom's scent, and lean in. Mom cards his hands in my hair, and places his scent over me, just like what Talia always screamed at him for. For showing his son love. "How?"</p>
<p>"Intersex. I'm intersex, Derek. Talia always... She never let me have you, because of how the pack would look." Mom leans his head on my shoulder, whispering, "Because my mate was taken from me. My mate, my silver knight, Christopher." I don't know how to make it up to him, how to tell him how sorry I was for not realizing. For not knowing he was my mom.</p>
<p>"Don't blame yourself, pup," Mom whispers in my ear. "You weren't meant to know. I did my best, tried to make sure I could see you..."</p>
<p>"But it meant submitting to Talia."</p>
<p>"Yes."</p>
<p>Stiles is still sitting in the corner, and I look back at him, as I help my mom to stand, letting him lean on my shoulder as he walks to the bed. Mom just looks like he always has, aside from the burns. He still has those curls, curls that I didn't get, and his blue eyes are still the same that have watched over me, even if I didn't want them to.</p>
<p>"Peter..."</p>
<p>Stiles looks like he's just seen the best ghost, and sits up straighter in his chair, as he picks up his book awkwardly.</p>
<p>"Do you remember me?"</p>
<p>Stiles looks terrified he doesn't, like Mom just could have forgotten him, after everything. "Mischief." He laughs, as Stiles beams, sitting on the edge of the bed on his other side. "How could I forget the brat who subjected me to Star Wars novels for an entire year?"</p>
<p>Stiles wraps his arms around him, and Mom gives him his scent, just as he did me, and not without casting a knowing glance my way. I nod, as I know that he assumes Stiles is my mate, even though I haven't said anything yet. My wolf is the happiest he's ever been, as we just hold him. Hold my Mom, who always loved me at the closest possible distance. Even as Talia would have ripped him apart, my Mom still showed me his love.</p>
<p>"I knew you were awake." </p>
<p>Stiles' voice was small, sniffley, as he spoke, and he let out a watery laugh as Mom petted his fuzzy hair.</p>
<p>"I just knew you were there, somehow. I could feel it."</p>
<p>I nod, clenching my jaw to stop my self loathing. I left him here. I just went with Laura, and he was sitting here, all alone. I'm a terrible son.  "Who... Who is my father?" I ask, as a nurse checks in, her surprise evident. I ignore that, instead listening to the two heartbeats that mean the most to me. "Your mate, I just..."</p>
<p>"Argent. Christopher Argent." Mom's scent sours in his heartbreak, as he leans into us. "My Christopher was ripped from my bed. Just when I was going to tell him about you." A tear splashes onto my arm around mom's waist, and I hold him tighter. "Last I heard, he'd moved to San Francisco, with his kidnapper. He doesn't know about you."</p>
<p>"Do you want him to?"</p>
<p>Stiles' question caught us off guard, I hadn't thought of even telling Argent about me, and Mom just looks so torn. "He couldn't love me... Not like this." Mom gestures to his face, and his burns, as Stiles snorts. He pulls out of the hug, and takes his phone out.</p>
<p>"Hey Allison? Can I have your dad's number? I just met someone he used to know, and they want to say hi."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>🌙</p><p>{Christopher}</p><p>The day that I completely renounced my family was the day I found who my family truly was. Who they had been all along. For an old Hunter, some habits die hard. Protecting the ones you love is one of them.</p><p>The only problem is, to protect the ones I love, my true family, from the people who raised me, the very same family who taught me how to kill, and be good at it, was a harder task than I had ever done. But they never expected me to turn my bloody hands on them, when I realized what they had done to me. And that was a clear advantage.</p><p>🌙</p><p>"Hey, Dad," Allison calls, as I clean one of my Glocks  on the dining room table. Victoria always hates when I do this, but luckily my wife isn't here, out of town dress shopping until Monday. I look up, as Allison stops in the doorway, her brow drawn, and biting her lip. </p><p>"What's wrong?" I ask, setting down the bore brush. She has a peculiar expression of guilt on her face, and I sigh, raising my eyebrows. "Allison?"</p><p>"My friend Stiles called me. He..." Allison walks in, sitting down at the table and nudging one of the oily rags back onto the newspaper as she avoids the thing she wants to ask. "He was at the long term care unit, visiting his mom's friend, and he says it was someone you used to know."</p><p>"Did he tell you their name?" I go back to cleaning my gun, settling my mind, knowing it couldn't have been my Peter. I scrub out the barrel, idly looking through it to ensure cleanliness, before taking a steadying sip of my whiskey, even when I wanted to just throw it back. Peter had always scolded me for downing the alcohol we weren't even able to legally buy.</p><p>"Yeah, umm. He said it was Peter Hale? Yeah, apparently he woke up from a coma, the doctors never thought he would." Allison gently touches my arm as my head spins.</p><p>I want nothing more than to race into his arms, tell him I regret ever leaving him, tell him... There's so much I want, but I can never have. Not even my Peter, sweet as honey and just as smooth. I let the tear fall from my eye, but just that one, as I sigh.</p><p>"That's really good news." I mutter, compulsively cleaning the gun now, trying to get every single fleck off, so I wouldn't have to think of how badly I miss him. I inhale through my nose, as I reassemble the hand gun, and ensure it is functional. "I'm happy for him." I try and smile, but it gets stuck somewhere in the middle, and I can't show this weakness to my daughter. "Really, you should get to studying."</p><p>"Dad, Stiles told me that... He told me that Peter had a son, and wants you to meet him." Allison tucks her hair behind her ear as I ball up the paper with a sense of urgency. She can't understand this. She can't possibly understand how much I want to see my beautiful Peter, and see the son he had with a better man than I am, but I can't.</p><p>I have to keep them safe</p><p>"Derek's nineteen, and he's interested in meeting you too."</p><p>I turn as I wash my hands in the sink, the reality sinking deeper and deeper into my bones. How could I have been such a fool? I grip the edge of the sink to steady me, as Allison asks something, but all I hear is Peter's voice in my head, begging them not to take me. Not to take away his mate.</p><p>And if Derek was nineteen, that would mean my Peter...</p><p>"Allison, sweetie, go and get a jacket on, I think you should meet my friend." I smile, eyes brimming as I realize that I have to tell her. Tell her her father is gay. Tell her everything.</p><p>Allison luckily is ready to leave in a matter of minutes, as I struggle with what I should wear. What proper etiquette was there when you introduce your daughter to the intersex love of your life and her illegitimate brother, who you weren't aware was yours?</p><p>There's a knock on my bedroom door, as I stand in a nice pair of khakis, and a plain t-shirt, trying to decide on the proper attire. Allison pops her head around the corner as I stare at my closet, a frown on her face. "Dad?" She steps forward, touching my arm. "Dad, hey, what's wrong?"</p><p>"Sweetheart, I'm not... I'm not sure how to say this." I sigh, placing my hand over hers, and looking into her big brown eyes, noticing not hot the first time how much she looks like a Hale. "Peter was... A lot more than just a friend. He..." I look away, not able to cope with what would come into her eyes at my admission. Victoria always makes it quite clear the family's opinions on homosexuality. "I love him. I always have, I always will." As silence follows, I add, "I'm gay, Allison. I'm sorry."</p><p>"Dad? Why are you sorry? I love you, you'll always be my favourite person." Allison's arms wrap around me as she places her head on my shoulder. "But what about mom?"</p><p>"Gerard, my father, he... He said if I gave him an heir, and... And if Victoria married me, he wouldn't put a bullet in Peter's brain." I swallow down the bile of what my father has done, to me and to everyone I loved. I just want him, want my honeybee. My Peter Hale.</p><p>"Dad," Allison's brown eyes blink away the tears, as she sniffles. "Dad, did Mom..."</p><p>"It doesn't mean I don't love you." I whisper, wrapping an arm around her thin shoulders. "I will never not love you. You'll always be my little girl."</p><p>"But... Did she?"</p><p>"I don't remember ever conceiving you with her." </p><p>"You're..." Allison has a fierce gleam in her eyes, as she wipes away the tears on her face, and my daughter pulls away, her lip trembling as she points at me. "You're divorcing her. I'm not letting you live with a rapist. And... And we'll find a place to stay, and Peter can live with us..." Allison sobs, covering her mouth as I pull her into my arms, my sweet little girl who never would be a Hunter. I never wanted that for her, and I won't let her be a killer.</p><p>"Well, let's just, let's just start slow, alright?" I kiss her hair, turning to my wardrobe in the room I have, separate from Victoria's. "Let's find me something to wear first." I chuckle as she smiles, helping me pick out the perfect outfit.</p><p>"This shirt..." She laughs shakily, looking up at my eyes as she holds a pale mint button up to me. "Yeah, it makes you look irresistible." She grins as I slip it on, and button it up, looking at myself in the mirror. "Dad, you look sexy." I give he a sideways glance, and fix the sleeves, deciding to forgo a tie, and I slip on my old leather jacket, stepping into a pair of comfortable leather boots.</p><p>"Acceptable?" I ask, posing, with a feeling of uncaged bats fluttering around in my stomach. "God, I feel like a teenager again."</p><p>Allison grins, her dimples popping out. "Let's get some flowers, and head to meet my future dad!" </p><p>She seems to be taking this incredibly well. To test,  I reply, "Peter might want you to call him Mom. He's... Unique." I grin as I hook my finger through my keys, and press one of my speed dials. My lawyer will be very relieved to hear I want to go through with the papers I had him draw up over ten years ago.</p><p>As I drive, I lay the bare framework of the settlements I want laid out in the papers, including my full custody of Allison, and a restraining order on Her. My concessions were few and far between, but hell, I'm giving her the 500,000 house. She doesn't get much more than that.</p><p>Allison pats me on the shoulder as I hang up in front of the grocery store, her face bright. "I'm proud of you."</p><p>"That's the part that I look forward to."</p><p>Within ten minutes, I have a dozen blue roses, because Peter never could stand the cliche of red, and my daughter's hand in mine as I step towards his room. A young man is waiting outside, who must be Stiles, and I swallow nervously as I hesitate by the door.</p><p>"Mr Argent?" Stiles asks, running a hand over his hair, or what was left of it. Were buzz cuts still a thing? "Oh, umm, listen, Peter's still kind of weak, he's healing, like, fast as you'd expect, but be careful." Stiles glances behind me, and gives a bright wave to Allison. "Welcome to the crazy. Has your dad told you everything?"</p><p>"I was waiting on the... Other things. I felt it would be better to let her brother explain." I squeeze my daughter's hand reassuringly, and step through the opening door. Peter looks just as handsome as the day I met him, as he lies on the bed, a beautiful smile on his face. "Hey, honeybee." I murmur, knowing he can hear. "I got you flowers."</p><p>"Darling," Peter shakily stands from the bed, and for the first time, I notice how much Derek looks like me, how much he looks like us as he makes sure his mother is alright. "I want to tell you what I was going to say, before those bastards took you." I take the love of my life in my arms, nodding. He smiles, his face still just as handsome as ever.</p><p>"I'm not getting fat. I'm pregnant." He smiles tearfully as I laugh, burying my face in his shoulder, laughing, crying, and everything in between. "I love you." He chuckles as I say it back, and kisses my shoulder. </p><p>"Can I be introduced to our son, love?" I ask, unsure if I'll ever be wanted by Derek. Unsure if he'll ever forgive me. I look up, as my son takes a few cautious steps forward, his eyes like a hunted animal. He stands just behind his mother's shoulder, his jaw clenched.</p><p>"This is Derek Christopher Hale. Chris, this is our son."</p><p>I smile tentatively, and carefully hold up Peter, while  I at the same time offer my arms to him, and he retreats a little, expression guarded. I swallow, nodding with a self deprecating joke. "I guess I can't expect you to call me Dad," I say, looking down as he nods. "Derek, I never knew. I didn't ever... I'm sorry."</p><p>"I don't know if I can trust you." His eyes look lost, like he was drowning, and needed saving, but there was no one. "Hunters kill us. Your people tried to kill Mom."</p><p>"We..." I start, but the nagging suspicions have never left me, as I think back on that time. "I swear to you, Derek. I had no part in that. I could never harm your mother. Not willingly. Not if there was any possible way not to."</p><p>"Kate." Derek looks up at me, taking a step backwards, and his eyes beg me to understand. To know what it was my sister had done. A thin trail of tears roll down his cheeks, as he tells us, "I didn't want to, not as much as she did. And, and it hurt. I didn't like it, I tried to stop..." He drops his voice to a broken whisper, as Stiles walks next to him. He looks up at Derek, and gently places his hand on his bicep. "I said no."</p><p>"I know, Sourwolf. It's not your fault. She hurt you." Stiles does the most unique thing I have ever seen a human do, not without knowing what werewolves do when a pack member is in pain. He leans up on his tip toes, getting his arms around Derek's neck, and letting his hands trail over Derek's skin. A scenting. On instinct.</p><p>"Stiles is a unique individual, love." Peter's voice is a low enough whisper for only me to hear. He noses my shoulder, adding, "I half raised him after Talia took our son. Stiles knows a lot about being a Wolf. Even if it's buried deep." Peter's smile is close to broken as he looks at the teen, comforting his son in his distress. "I suspect Derek has already chosen Stiles subconsciously. His wolf knows his mate."</p><p>I nod, reaching behind me and gently bringing my daughter to us. I kiss her forehead, wiping a tear from her cheek as I smile. "Peter, honeybee, this is Allison. My daughter." Allison smiles, hesitantly, and looks up to my love, my life, Peter.</p><p>"Hi. Can... Can I call you Mom?" Her face looks on verge of crying again, as she rubs her neck. "Because I just found out the one I have raped my dad to make me."</p><p>Peter tsk's, drawing her in and kissing her forehead. "Of course, of course you can be my pup. You look so much like a Hale already."  Peter shushes  her as he gently strokes her hair, brushing his hand over her hair and back, protecting her with his Alpha scent.</p><p>"You're an Alpha now, aren't you, Peter?" I ask, kissing his temple, and sighing. "Because some bastard cut your niece in half." I exhale, almost but not quite growling. I press my forehead to Peter's skull, drinking in the presence of the man I thought I had lost forever. "I'm so sorry."</p><p>"I know it wasn't you." Peter turns his head, looking at me and pressing his unburnt cheek to my daughter's hair, humming softly. I feel my eyes tear up as he just accepts that I cheated on him this easily. That he just takes Allison into his arms as if she was ours. Not mine and Victoria's.</p><p>"I smelled Kate on her. Kate Argent." Peter's eyes glow red, as he looks at me in fury. "She killed my family, however much they detested me they were still my family." His fangs peek out, but I don't fear him hurting my girl. It goes against every instinct burned into me, to let a werewolf half shift while holding my daughter, but it was my honeybee. He wouldn't.</p><p>Tears pour from his glowing red eyes as Allison looks up at me in shock. I nod, and my voice is deadly quiet, as I whisper, "She's going to wish she was never born."</p><p>"How could aunt Kate..." Allison glances at Peter, even as his eyes are hellfire red. But she doesn't flinch, instead, she just puts her hand on my mate's face, watching them fade back to their clear blue. "Mom?" Her voice is a whisper, as her thumb brushes Peter's cheek.</p><p>"I'm a werewolf, darling." Peter lets his eyes glow red, and his fangs descend. "I won't hurt you." His speech is slightly deformed in a near full Beta shift, and Allison gently touches the darkened burns, and the furrowed eyebrows. With a slow blink, Peter once more appears human, and catches Allison's hand. "Don't be afraid."</p><p>"I'm not." Allison smiles, and out of the corner of my eye, I catch Derek cautiously approaching, his face closed off. Stiles has a hand on his forearm, grounding him. I see Derek look from Peter and Allison to me, and his eyes shine a hint of blue, as he whimpers.</p><p>I kiss my mate, and step towards Derek, my palms raised as well as my chin, bearing no threat to my boy. "Derek," I murmur, and place my hand near his neck. "Can I hold my son? Can I hold you?" Derek leans into my hand, his eyes closing as pained whines slip from his throat. I feel moisture prickling in my eyes as I tug Derek into a gentle embrace. "I've got you, pup." I run my hands over him, rubbing my cheek on him, the way Peter would scent me when we were so young. "My son." I grip his jacket, holding him even as his hands begin reluctantly holding onto me. "My son, mine. I'm so sorry I wasn't there."</p><p>"I was so alone. I was not-Pack." He whimpers into my shoulder, and I can sense Peter behind me even before his hand touch my shoulder. </p><p>"You're part of my pack. We want you. We love you." I grip him even tighter as I close my eyes. "I love you."</p><p>"I buried Laura. Like how we were taught. I found her other half. I'm sorry." His hands reach out to Peter, and one closes around Allison, tying us all in one big embrace. "I shouldn't have done it, but I couldn't leave her there. She was in a tree. There were things eating her."</p><p>"Ssh, pup." Peter's voice behind me summoned every image of motherly love I'd ever seen, as his hand reaches over my shoulder to gently stroke his hair. "You did good. You did so good, pup. Let's get you home." </p><p>"Home is gone. Doesn't smell right. Cold."</p><p>Peter kisses my shoulder, sighing in defeat. "Home is where you make it. Home is with Pack." He presses his nose into my back, murmuring loud enough for everyone to hear. "I think I need to look into reopening my apartment. I'll order some groceries, and call a maid."</p><p>"How long?" I ask, mentally preparing for picking up mine and Allison's things from the house. I just hope Victoria doesn't arrive home early.</p><p>"Groceries will be waiting in the fridge, and the maid will take about two or three hours to tidy up and clean out the cobwebs." Peter sighs, and nuzzles me as we all start to disentangle. "Gives me just enough time to begin to sort out my rogue Beta."</p><p>I leave Peter with Derek and Stiles, as he files discharge paperwork with the hospital, and I kiss his forehead, before stepping towards the door. I don't want to leave him. Not again. Not when I know what Hunters are capable of. Stiles has his hands on both of my Wolves, keeping a lookout as various nurses and doctors file past, and I feel a part of the anxiety lessen. He would watch them.</p><p>"Dad?" Allison asks as we get into my SUV, and the rumble of the engine hums in the background. I pause with my hand on the gear shift, looking over at her. "How was Derek born?" She looks down, picking at a thread of her shirt. "It's a werewolf thing, isn't it?" </p><p>I sigh, tucking a stray hair behind her ear and smiling. "Peter was born intersex. He's technically male and female. Derek was born like any other baby." I swallow, adding to ease my own conscience, "And just because it was different between me and Victoria, doesn't mean I love you less. Not a single speck. It was never your fault."</p><p>I sigh, remembering the faint images from my wedding night, and then the visions for a year or two after. "Allison. Victoria, she... She drugged me, when we would... I saw Peter. And it was easy, to take the pill. Because I was with him again, even if it wasn't, it looked like him." I pur the car in reverse, pulling out of the parking space, then shift as I drive onto the main road. "They called it mercy."</p><p>"Who would call that mercy?" Allison whispered, her face white, and she looked out the windshield, sniffling. "Who would think it was alright?" My sweet daughter gave a cold, cynical laugh, as she realized. "Victoria would."</p><p>"I don't... You don't have to hate her Allison." I try to be fair, I  don't want her to be... She has a choice, if she wants to stay with them, she can.</p><p>I'm about to utter that exact phrase, when Allison tells me, "I'm on your side, Dad. Because that's evil." I pull into the driveway, and look at my daughter, her eyes hard as steel, and her face splotched from anger and crying. I nod, and she seems to burn as she looks at the two other cars in the lane. "They are evil. What she did to you, what Kate did to Derek and Mom..."</p><p>I smile, my heart squeezing as she calls my love Mom. Already, she's accepted Peter. "Sweetheart, I'll deal with Victoria and Kate." I pull my spare gun from my glove compartment, and tuck it into my waistband. "Pack us clothes and other things that are essential. Don't come downstairs until I call."</p><p>My daughter nods, looking at me, grim anger in her eyes. "Can I have a gun?"</p><p>I sigh, kissing her forehead. "Not yet. But if they try anything, I promise, you'll get one." I nod, stepping out onto the asphalt of the driveway, and towards the house that had been my prison. Allison looks at me as I pause with my hand on the knob, and I smile reassuringly. Trying to convince the panic to leave.</p><p>With a deep breath, I step into the hellfire.</p><p>Victoria is chopping vegetables in the kitchen, and I place my hand on Allison's back, guiding her to the stairs. I give her a tight smile, as I step towards the living room, and I work the silver ring off of my finger, leaving it in front of the bitch lounging on the couch. As I lean over, my shirt hikes up to display the gun in my pants, and Kate merely stares at me.</p><p>"That's how you play it." Her voice is disbelieving, as I walk into the kitchen, grabbing a few medications prescribed to Allison and myself. Victoria glances at my hand, and drops the knife, sighing. "You're going back to being the dog's bitch. Letting the mutt fuck you like the whore you are."</p><p>"I'm going to give you one warning, Kate." I keep the fear out of my voice, only displaying my anger as I pocket the pill bottles, and grab my jacket from the hall, along with the pair of Allison's. "We're leaving. In the morning, I'll be back with the paperwork."</p><p>"Excuse me?" Victoria all but screams. "You are not taking my daughter, you useless faggot!" She points the large knife in her hand at me, her pale face coloring.</p><p>In response, I level my semiautomatic pistol at her head, an expression of mild disinterest on my face. "I can pull this trigger and no-one will blame me." I look at Kate, who has her hand in her pants, holding a gun of her own, in all probability. I turn to her, pointing the pistol at the monster I shared blood with. "You raped my son." I put my finger actually on the trigger, my eyebrows raised. "You tried to kill Peter." I don't kid myself that it was about him. The rest of the people in the fire were just collateral damage.</p><p>"You don't have the balls." Kate raises her hands at any rate, and spits, "Tell that Dog I miss his cock. Even though he didn't know how to get it up."</p><p>I smirk, knowing that the phone in my pocket was recording every word.</p><p>"So, you admit you did it, raped my thirteen year old son, and killed eleven people in the Hale Fire?" I cock the  gun, daring her to pull the trigger.</p><p>"Hell yeah, just like your wife had to drug your pervert ass just to fuck you." Kate huffs, adding, even more digging her own grave, "I was the one who got her the drugs. Bet you begged for them, didn't you?" Kate's sneer could be seen from outer space, and I pull the phone from my pocket, stopping the recording. "You —"</p><p>"Allison, you ready honey?" I call, and she pokes her head over the balcony, dragging three apparently heavy duffle bags. I smile, keeping my gun at the ready. I turn to my ex wife, my voice cold, "My lawyers will be calling soon. I advise you sign the settlements, or this recording might go public."</p><p>I pick up two of the duffles, still keeping the gun leveled at my sister. I walk out of the door after Allison, and don't look back once we're on the road.</p><p><br/>🌙</p><p>{Peter}</p><p>I am broken, I don't deny that. I am battered, a creature that should have been put out of my misery a long time ago. But you have to have the night to see the moon.</p><p>And all would bask in her beauty, if they could see it like I do.</p><p>🌙</p><p>I place my hand on my son's neck, and how good it feels for my pup to know. I smile, as he helps me to his car, my strength just a fraction of what it once was, as the Alpha spark heals my ravaged frame. "Derek, I..." I'm not entirely sure what it was I was going to say, as Stiles, my Little Red Riding Hood, takes his place, while he packs away the scant amount of my things in the trunk of his car.</p><p>"I can't approve of the Camaro, son. It's... It's a little, a little severe for my sweet pup." I try and joke, but only Stiles finds me amusing. Derek looks pained, like I'd hurt my boy. "I'm..."</p><p>"It was Laura's. I couldn't afford airfare." He clenched his jaw, looking at me in apology. I sigh, smiling gently at my little pup. I nod, pulling open the door, and feel a few more muscles in my torso knit back together.</p><p>I  sigh, climbing into the austere black car, after Stiles, smiling at him in the rearview mirror. He seems to have had a good life, even though I couldn't watch over him the way I wanted to. He grins at me, and starts his soft chatter, telling me about everything that's gone on that I've missed in his life.</p><p>"Stiles, I love how you want me to know everything, but maybe later, pup?" I pull out the clunky phone I don't remember buying, and add, "I have to get a few things set up for our home."</p><p>Stiles nods, waiting as patiently as he could, and bouncing his knee. I smile, looking to Derek, and stroke his arm softly as the phone rings. Derek has an edge of unease to his scent, as we drive further into town. "Hello, Noah," I answer, as the one of oldest friends I had still alive finally picked up the damn phone. "I just thought I'd say hello."</p><p>"This can't be who I think it is."</p><p>The good deputy seems not to have heard the good news, it appears, any of the good news. "Noah, who else is this suave?" I ask, and he laughs. "I... Stiles is with me, and my son." I smile to myself, as Noah congratulates me. "Talia can't take him away any more."</p><p>"This town really needs a new Hale Pack," Noah mutters, and I can hear a glass being put down. I feel a cold piece of dread fill me as I recall what was going on before the fire. </p><p>"Noah, you... You received help, yes? I... I remember Stiles mentioning something, but..."</p><p>"Yeah, kid. I got off the hard stuff. Most of the stuff, in fact. This is lemonade." I hear cubes clunking, as he takes another sip, and his son nods in the mirror, giving me a thumbs up. </p><p>I sigh in relief. "Thank you. It... It gets better, trust me." I pick at the substandard sweater I was in, pulling small pieces of fuzz off of the fabric. "Christopher and I are going after the Agents, Noah. But we want to do it legally."</p><p>"I'll drop by your place once you're set up, I take it Stiles is spending the night." Noah quiets, silence echoing across the line. "Tell Stiles if... If he wants it, he can take the Bite. If you want him in your pack."</p><p>"We can discuss things later. If Stiles wants to be Pack, I will let him." I sigh, brushing lint off of my jeans. I don't know what I would have done if I hadn't been able to have Stiles in my life. Not after losing rights to my son. "For now, he's as close to Pack as it gets. He will always be a second son to me." </p><p>"Do you want me to stop by?" Noah looks through files in the background, and I hear the papers shuffling. "I can bring things related to the fire, and some of your things from our attic." </p><p>"Thank you, Noah. For everything you've done." I whisper, before he hangs up, and I check on Stiles, who looks like he's been listening in on everything his father said. I give him a look, a mild glare, and he all but vibrates with the need to speak.</p><p>"I get to be part of the Pack?" Stiles' grin is nearly ear to ear, as he leans all the way forward in the back seat, his face now completely in the front area. "I get to be a werewolf too?"</p><p>"Stiles, there's a lot you need to know before taking the Bite." I pat his cheek as I turn in the passenger seat, adding, "But, even if you don't want to be a werewolf, you can still be pack."</p><p>Stiles' phone chirps with a message, and I can smell the fear lacing his scent, a bitter edge to his usual smell. He looks up at us, eyes wide and licks his lips, his voice trembling as he tells us the news. "Uh, I just heard from Allison, and Kate and Victoria were there."</p><p>I suppress a growl, as my son feels the same fear as Stiles, and I place my hand on Derek's arm, keeping the contact to keep him calm. "Christopher knows how to take care of himself." I keep my voice even, and as we pull into the parking structure of my building, next to my vintage Ford Mustang. I feel more of my muscles knit back together, and my strength increase.</p><p>My body is rapidly healing, exponentially as my Pack Bonds with my son and the tenuous bond, not yet cemented, with my mate grow stronger. I can support my own frame as I press the button for the elevator to my penthouse apartment. It feels unbelievable to come home, to bring my son home, with his mate.</p><p>The ride to our floor is long, and I spend the time familiarizing myself with the way Derek treats Stiles, and vice versa. Stiles is only human, but his gentle upbringing and instinctively tactile nature suit him perfectly to life with Wolves. He naturally gives touches, physical affection my son hadn't had in probably six years, since before the fire.</p><p>It warms my heart to see my boy leaning into the contact, see him initiating it himself, an action he had almost never done with anyone besides myself. I smile, brushing his hair off of his forehead, and nod, the only thing I can do to tell him what he wants is alright. I know he's restraining himself with his mate, not giving him much more than platonic touches, fearful of what his instincts tell him.</p><p>"Stiles, you can help Derek sort out his room, as I cook us dinner." I pick up a light package of my belongings, and walk out of the opening doors onto the hardwood floors of my home.</p><p>Along the back wall lay the wall of windows, the late afternoon sun streaming into the main living space. Beneath the large balconyof the second floor, my glass walled study had been dusted, and the covers removed from the leather sectional in front of the fireplace.</p><p>I walked to the large island, reading the card left by my housekeeping service, and double checking the cupboards for the necessary ingredients for scampi. Derek leads Stiles up the iron staircase on the brick accent wall, to the second floor, and the bedrooms.</p><p>Humming softly, I set a pot of water to boil, and open the package of prawns, peeling them as I keep a sharp ear on my son. His Pack bond shows little anxiety on his part, and I hear him speaking in a calm voice to Stiles. </p><p>I nod to myself, confident that my son was going to be alright. He was just as strong as his mother. I hear the annoying pinging of Stiles' cell phone, and take the sauce mixture off of the burner, shredding a head of lettuce for a salad. His  head, which I really need to talk with him about that God awful buzz cut, peeks over the balcony.</p><p>"Hey, uncle Peter?" He calls, his phone held away from his ear. "Can a few of my friends stop by?" His eyes plead with me, big and brown, and I can't say no.</p><p>"I suppose." I add an extra serving of noodles to the water to boil, and glance up. "But if they get mud on the couch it's on your head."</p><p>Stiles rolls his eyes, grinning wickedly, and tells whatever mischievous rascal he is on the phone with that, and I quote, "Operation Rainbow Sheep is go." His choice of code name is quintessential Stiles, not obvious, but totally unique.</p><p>I sigh, checking my out of fashion watch. I mean really, six years in a coma, and they can't keep me up with the trends? Morons. Christopher and Allison should be arriving any minute, and I page the guard to allow his SUV into the resident parking, as he would be moving into my home, hopefully, and I was expecting a few young guests.</p><p>It would be nice to have my family under one roof at last, and Stiles' friends would always be welcome here.</p><p>But of course, it alters my dinner plans.</p><p>Once the meal was finished to my liking, I place the large crock into the oven to keep warm, and the salad into the fridge, so I may attempt to look respectable for my Christopher. The stairs gently creak under my footsteps, and I catch a glimpse of Stiles reading one of Derek's books while my son holds him. I feel my heart give a happy squeeze, knowing my boy is cared for.</p><p>These clothes in my closet are so dreadfully out of date, it's a wonder if any suit me still. And how in the hell did I acquire a Hawaiian shirt? I thumb through the entire walk in closet before I land on the perfect sweater, a cashmere turtleneck, in a pale cream. Acceptable, and it would cover the worst of the scarring.</p><p>With the right pants, it would be rather dashing. And if the black pair still hug my ass the way they once had...</p><p>Perfect.</p><p>Fully dressed, I knock on Derek's half opened door. "Pups?" I ask, leaning on their door frame. "Are you hungry yet? Or would you rather wait for your friends?" I smile, seeing the clear debate raging in Stiles. "I made enough for seven."</p><p>"We'll wait." Stiles looks up to Derek, frowning. "I mean, Lydia and Jax are gonna be here in ten." </p><p>"I'm not that hungry yet, anyways, Stiles." Derek's response worries me, along with his overly muscular body, I fear he may have an eating disorder on his hands. I remember that he enjoyed exercise to build up his muscles when he was a pup, wanting to be like the other, older boys in school. But the extreme he's taken it to...</p><p>Maybe I can have a talk with him, soon, about a few sessions of therapy. I need some, if I must be honest. </p><p>"Well," I reply, and pause, hearing the soft rumbling of the elevator. "I'll ask the rest of our family if they can hold off until they arrive." My heart beats a little faster, hearing the unmistakable sound of my Christopher's heartbeat, and the new one I'm learning is Allison's. "Make sure you wash up."</p><p>I leave the budding couple to their own devices, heading back downstairs to greet my mate, my inner wolf preening at how lovely our den is. Especially now that our mate will share it with us. I brush a small thread off of my jeans, and tug my sweater even. My wolf and I want nothing less than perfection, to please our Christopher.</p><p>His face is drawn, as the doors open, and I frown, my mouth opening to ask what was wrong. Christopher shakes his head, leading Allison into the apartment, carrying their three small bags of belongings. Their entire lives, in three duffle bags. My heart pangs with sympathetic loss.</p><p>"Christopher, Allison, I hope you can make this place home." I smile, glancing up as Stiles poles his head out. "Yes, pup?"</p><p>"Lydia and Jackson are in the lobby," he calls, just as the elevator begins to descend. "Allison, we need to talk about stuff, before dinner!" Stiles gives an exaggerated wink, and she nods, readjusting her grip on the bags as she makes he way upstairs.</p><p>"Are you hungry?" I ask Chris, taking his bag. His face is grim, and I know that his announcement hadn't gone over well with his family. I brush my fingertips over his cheek, murmuring, "Christopher, how can I help?"</p><p>"Just... Please, honey, don't let your guard down, not outside of these walls." His frown deepens as he draws me into his arms. I place gentle kisses on his sweet face, whispering sweet nothings as I do so. I kiss away his tears, and rest my forehead on his. "I love you. Peter Hale, I have and will always love you." </p><p>His heart never stutters. "As I love you, my silver knight." I press my lips to his, tasting the sweet lips I had waited for for so long. It is everything I had dreamt of all these years. I gasp as we break for air, feeling myself clench as he holds me to him, his eyes dark with his passion. "God, I'd forgotten how you... I'd forgotten what your mouth can<em> do.</em>"</p><p> He smiles for the first time since he got here, and leans close, whispering in my ear, "Did you also forget what else my mouth is good for?"</p><p>I stifle a whimper, my lower region clenching on nothing as I feel my boxer briefs grow slightly damp between my legs. "Christopher, if you don't remind me in the very near future, I will never forgive you."</p><p>The elevator announces a new set of arrivals, and I kiss my mate one last time before pulling away. A petite redhead looks me over as I let Christopher take his things upstairs. Her green eyes narrow, as she steps from the lift, her slim stilettos clicking on the hardwood. "You're Peter?" She asks, tilting her head with laser like focus. The boy with her looks familiar, but I can't exactly place where I've seen him.</p><p>Nevertheless, I shake off the cobwebs of my mind and nod. "You must be Lydia Martin, Stiles mentioned you at least five times a week." I grin, offering my hand. "I'm sorry for my disfigurement, but unfortunately, attempted murder will leave scars."</p><p>"It's not that bad. A little bit shocking, but it's good for the sympathy play." She purses her lips, looking around. "Stiles?"</p><p>"He, Derek, and Allison are upstairs. May I ask what you five are plotting?" I smirk, as she innocently bats her eyes. "Dinner will be in four minutes. Finish your "Operation Rainbow Sheep" before then, please?" My smirk grows wider at her shock.</p><p>Children these days. They forget we were sixteen once too.</p><p>I listen to the pups playfully squabble upstairs, catching vague words and phrases out of context, and the sound of Christopher investigating the rooms upstairs. His heavy soled shoes are quite distinct on the wooden floors. Once I serve the sauced noodles and prawns, I toast a crusty loaf of bread under  the broiler as I dish out the salad and whip up a basic vinaigrette with the balsamic vinegar I ordered.</p><p>"Dinner!" I call, knowing that Derek would be sure to hear at the least, and would fetch everyone.</p><p>The pups have a most devilish plan in place it seems, by their whispered conversation, and Derek's eye rolls. I purposefully ignore the whispers, and look to Chris, as he parts the crowd of teenagers. </p><p>"Whatever you're planning, don't." He smiles, as he reprimands the pups, and it only seems to encourage them. I snicker, catching his hand and humming contentedly. "It smells delicious, honeybee." I lift my cheek, asking pointedly for a kiss as the children take seats at the large industrial style table.</p><p>"Alright, argh, listen up!" Stiles stands, and I internally cringe as his chair scrapes the floor. He lifts his glass of water, clearing his throat for the impending speech. I feel the smirk crawl onto my face, as this whole plot I can tell was Stiles. </p><p>"Okay, okay." Stiles clears his throat again, beginning his tangent. "So, all of us kids got together, and we decided, we're taking you old people to the Jungle, next weekend, as a celebration of the unlimited power of gay true love." He takes a sip of the water, and sits down, my adopted pup, and his sweet face is so red. I bite back a laugh, at how frankly adorable grown up Mischief is.</p><p>"I do believe Derek was conceived in that club's bathroom." I mull over the exact timing of when Derek was put in my womb. "However, I'm pretty sure there were a possible twelve other instances around the same time." I look to Chris who has a wicked grin on his sweet face. He steals a kiss, as the table falls silent.</p><p>"You're... A <em>dude</em>." The blond boy named Jackson replies, and I dimly remember him as Stiles' longtime friend. He seems to not have grasped the bigger picture.</p><p>"Well, yes, I look male, but I was born with both complete reproductive systems. If I wanted to I could have my own children." I shudder delicately at the thought. "Unappealing as it sounds. But Chris accepted my abnormality, and we had Derek when I was eighteen."</p><p>"You're intersex. That's extremely rare." Lydia looks at me speculatively, and I raise my chin, daring her to add an unsavory comment. I'd received enough of those from my dear sister over the course of my life. "I really think you're incredibly brave to be so open about it. Some hospitals go as far as correct intersex infants to make their.<em>.. Equipment</em> gender conforming." Lydia's angelic face twists into an ugly scowl, as she picks up her fork and viciously spears a prawn. "Its not just wrong, it's borderline breach of confidence. Nothing is wrong with not being of a binary gender. The entire concept of male and female is entirely archaic."</p><p>The other pups, even Christopher seem to gape at Lydia, and her little speech. "Thank you for understanding." I murmur, taking a bite of my scampi. Hmm. Could have used a touch more oregano. </p><p>"This is like, the best thing I've ever eaten." Allison hides her mouth, as she chews her food, her eyes wide. "I mean, this is better than that one restaurant I went to with Dad, that was like, $50 a plate." Swallowing, she gives me a brilliant smile, that I return. "Thanks, Mom."</p><p>I can't help but catch the pride shining in Christopher's eyes, as Allison doesn't hesitate to use the title in front of her friends. I feel a trace of it rub off a little as we finish the meal, mild discussions wandering aimlessly amongst ourselves. </p><p>I don't think I've ever felt more complete, as the seven of us settle onto the island of a couch, and decide to subject Jackson to the Notebook. I can smell the salty tears in his eyes halfway through the movie, and hide my smirk. Stiles' friends were definitely not all they appeared.</p><p>By the time Chris and I crawl into our large bed that night, I can feel the bonds waiting to be formed with Stiles, and the other teenagers. They simply belonged with us, in our family. I have a nagging suspicion that the bonds would be formed before the next moon.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>🌙</p><p>{Stiles}</p><p>🌙</p><p>I wake up all warm and cozy, with strong arms wrapped around my middle, and I snuggle closer to Derek. He rumbles deep in his chest, his nose pressing into my hair. "Hey, Sourwolf," I murmur, caressing his arm. God, I hadn't even imagined that waking up in Derek's arms could be this good.</p><p>"Stiles," he rumbles, and I let him tug me closer. "Stiles, are you sure you want this?" He buries his nose in the curve of my shoulder, and I sigh. Derek had been so anxious the night before, he hadn't wanted to force me into anything. It seems he still has the same fear.</p><p>"Der," I sigh, turning around to face him, and looking into his green eyes. I stroke his stubble, smiling softly. "Derek, I..." I bite my lip, feeling the gentle scratchiness of his facial hair. "I know that we... We're <em>something</em>, aren't we?" I trace the frown on his forehead, and wait, waiting for him to explain this connection I feel with him.</p><p>"We're mates." He swallows, avoiding my eyes. "I didn't mean to, I didn't want to force you into anything." He looks like I didn't want to be here in his arms, as if I'd want to be anywhere else.</p><p>"Der, I want to be here," I whisper, "I... I just feel really connected to you." I can't explain it, I just want to keep Derek safe and happy. I just want to hold him in my arms and kiss all of his problems away. "It's like I've always known you on some level." I catch his eyes, giving him a grin, and add, "You're like, my perfect match, so why fight it?"</p><p>"But you didn't get a choice." He tries to pull away in the small bed, brokenly saying, "I don't want to be like Kate." His jaw is clenched, and he curls in on himself, trying to make himself as small as possible. My heart breaks as he shifts away, his face so traumatized.</p><p>"And that's why you aren't," I whisper, pulling him back to me. "You're amazing, kind, sweet, and you would never hurt me, Derek." I burrow into his arms, wanting to tell him, but fearing it was far too early for those three little words.</p><p>We simply stay there, warm in the cocoon of blankets, as I listen closely to his heartbeat. It's so strong and steady, a slow beat that I want to memorize so I could pick it out in a crowd. I run my hands over his back, giving and receiving gentle affection. In this moment, sex is the furthest thing from my mind, just comforting Derek is all I worry about.</p><p>I can guess his past, from what he's said, and I know it could be a long time before he's ready for intimacy. And for the first time in my teenage life, I'm okay with that. Because I don't want to  be yet another person in Derek's life who's forced him into things he wasn't ready for.</p><p>I refuse to be another Kate.</p><p>A gentle knock announces Peter, his smile soft when he sees us. "Good morning, pups." My second mom settles on the end of the bed, gently rubbing Derek's calf as he looks up. "You alright, honey?"</p><p>"Stiles is my mate." Derek looks down at me, running his nose over mine. His eyes have lost the haunted look, now simply shine in the dim light from the hallway. I smile, nosing him back playfully. "Mom," Derek whispers, "are you sure Stiles can be Pack?" His eyes flick up to Peter, as his arms slightly tighten around me. </p><p>I don't want to lose him, either.</p><p>Peter clicks his tongue, his hand cupping Derek's cheek as he looks up. "I would <em>never</em> lie to you, pup." Peter strokes his son's cheek, smiling beatifically, looking for all the world like a mother comforting his child. Which, actually, he was.</p><p>"Speaking of making me a werewolf, when is that gonna happen?" I ask, looking up at Peter eagerly. I just hope I have better control than Scott, because I really don't want to kill anyone. Especially not anyone here. "But, also, I have a lacrosse game later, sooo..." I look back at Derek, then back at Peter, like, anybody got answers?</p><p>"Your father is on his way over, he's bringing you an overnight bag." Peter hums, as he grins, ruffling my hair affectionately. "We can discuss the bite then." I pout, because I wanna talk about it now, and he smirks. "Patience, Mischief."</p><p>I roll my eyes, quipping, "Yes, Mom."</p><p>Peter's smile turns soft, and he sighs, looking between Derek and I with a soft, sad expression. "Not yet. Soon, but not yet." Peter straightens up, a brisk nod and a, "Five minutes, then breakfast," was uttered as he left us to get out of bed.</p><p>"Well, you heard our Alpha," I grumble, groaning as I flop around in the blankets, before Derek swings himself out of bed, and untangles me from the covers. I groan, covering my eyes with my arm and sighing piteously. "I don't want to get up!"</p><p>Derek rumbles, scooping me out of the bed, and into his arms, ignoring my squawk of protest. I cross my arms, and turn my face away, refusing to be a damsel in distress. "Stiles," Derek laughs, looking down at me in his arms. "Am I your boyfriend? Because this is very boyfriend like."</p><p>I glare, sticking my tongue out as I get set down on the cold tile of the bathroom, and grab the spare tooth brush. He jostles me by the sink, trying to get the other fancy pants bamboo toothbrush. I make a noise, scrubbing my teeth, and he swipes the paste, scrubbing his little bunny teeth he has. We finish at about the same time and Derek takes me in his arms, his expression serious despite our occasional giggles.</p><p>"You didn't answer me." He looks down at my lips, then back at my eyes, his voice going husky. "Are we boyfriends?" I nod, feeling not unpleasant fluttery sensations in my gut as he leans down, his eyes smoldering. "Can I kiss you?"</p><p>"Please," I whisper, almost gasping at how soft his mouth was, aside from the slight rasp of his stubble. God, it feels like heaven. I move my mouth softly against his, tilting my head to go deeper with a moan.</p><p>My lower back gets pressed against the counter as Derek is literally taking me apart with his mouth, and I tentatively lick into his. He returns it, and I trail my hands to his hair, massaging the soft locks on his nape. I pull apart just slightly, when the need for actual air becomes  more pressing than the need to explore Derek's mouth with my tongue.</p><p>He chuckles, his voice low as he asks, "Was that... Was that good?" Even the godlike werewolf is out of breath, and I look into his blazing blue eyes. "Did you like that?"</p><p>"Notwithstanding that it was my first ever time making out, there is no way anyone can top that." I blink, as he smiles, leaning his forehead on mine, as we try to calm our racing hearts. I can feel his racing pulse beneath my fingers as I feel his stubble.</p><p>"I need to shave, don't I?" His voice is still halfway breathless, and I kiss his cheek, feeling his stubble with my lips. It's not as insanely scratchy as I expected, and... I kinda like my men hairy.</p><p>"Only if you want to." I pull away, rubbing my cheek on his shoulder as I pick up my jeans from the floor. They smelled clean enough, and Derek's old sweater from his closet fit oddly well. "I'm wearing this, if that's alright!" I call over my shoulder as I pull on the woolen green monstrosity. Hey, it has thumb holes! Cool.</p><p>Derek pokes his head out of the bathroom and his eyes get a little wider at what I'm wearing, his nostrils flaring. "Wear that." I roll my eyes, as he pulls on a pair of jeans from the duffle he had left in the Camaro. </p><p>"You like it when I smell like you, don't you?" I ask smugly, snuggling into the cozy sweater. It really did smell like Derek. Strong and masculine, without the Axe smell guys around my age favored. Perfect. </p><p>"Yes," he looked away, as he pulled out one of his slightly too small shirts. I carefully sneak into his arms, placing my hands on his smooth chest and feeling his chest hair regrowing. "I... It makes my wolf happy." He blushes under his olive skin tone, and I smile, my arms wrapping around his neck.</p><p>"Boys—" Chris stops in the doorway, frowning at Derek's back and I hide. "We're talking about the tattoo, later, son." I peek over Derek's muscular shoulder, and Chris is frowning even harder at something I can't see. His eyes clear, as he goes on, "Right now Mom has breakfast ready."</p><p>"Yes, sir," Derek pulls on his shirt, and his shoulders are hunched inward slightly. I touch his face, eyes asking what was wrong. "Laura had me get it. I... It hurt. A lot." I hold his waist as we make it downstairs, taking the seats next to Allison at the table. Derek still seems slightly tense, and I take his hand under the table.</p><p>I nearly moan at the French toast in front of me as I take a bite, like, god, what I'm used to seems like nothing more than eggy bread, in comparison. The inside of the toast is practically custard, just smooth and vanilla, with fucking blueberry sauce covering the top of this utter perfection.</p><p>Derek gives me a small, hesitant smile, and I can't help but announce "us". "Uh, Um, Hale clan?" I look up, poking at the breakfast in front of me. "Derek and I are together... as in Together, together." I sniff, licking my bottom lip, and chewing on it a little, as Allison gives me a smile. Chris looks at me like I'm some sort of calculus, but Peter couldn't have a more pleased expression. Derek's mom looks like the metaphorical cat that ate the canary. </p><p>"Well, we were about the same age when we started, Christopher. I do believe I was a little younger than Stiles." Peter chuckles, and goes to answer a door no one was at.</p><p>Of course, I should have known better, what with werewolf hearing and all. My dad gives Peter a wry grin, pulling him into a hug. "Glad to see you're back." My dad chuckles, gently swatting Peter's shoulder. "Town was awfully quiet with you gone."</p><p>I glance down at my plate, somehow I finished the entire stack without realizing. I see Derek next to me trying to fit one more bite in, and I laugh. He glares at me, looking longingly at the last bite, then gagging, too full for any more.</p><p>I can't believe he'd finished as much as he had. Might have something to do with his fast metabolism.</p><p>And now to the pregame practice. I sigh, knowing without question that Scott was going to be an ass.</p><p>🌙</p><p>"Whooo!" I yell as we score the last goal of the game, beating the fancy pants school without Captain Douche next to me. He literally sulked the entire game. Crybaby.</p><p>I catch Peter coming our way as the crowd filters out, and his eyes tighten when he sees Scott. In a moment, he's at my side, his eyes glowing alpha red, as he grabs Scott's side, where he was bitten. I watch as Scott gasps, and spasms while Peter draws the power out of my ex best friend.</p><p>"What did you do to me?" He asks, stumbling a little bit. </p><p>"I took back my gift." Peter loops his arm with mine, and leads me to where the celebration is going on. "Come pup. Lets leave the poor boy. He has enough on his plate."</p><p>🌙<br/>{Derek}</p><p>God. This is real. My mate is taking the Bite.</p><p>I almost don't want him to, the fear of his body rejecting the gift weighing heavily on my mind as I wait for Mom to come into the wolf proof room. I know though, however weak Stiles may look, he is strong where it matters. I can see it in the steely glint to his eye, when Scott came after him when he lost the bite.</p><p>In an odd way, Stiles looks like he'd challenge Mom, if he stood in his way of a goal. And Mom is an Alpha werewolf. I'm incredibly glad that Stiles was like a second son to him, and they haven't fought enough to speak of.</p><p>Stiles takes off his shirt with a shy grin, and I breathe in his scent, a soft smile on my face. My mate is surprisingly muscled, beneath his typical baggy clothes. He all but vibrates in his eagerness to get the Bite, to be Pack. His scent is ripe with excitement and adrenaline, and I can't help but chuckle.</p><p>"I'll be alright, Sourwolf."</p><p>Stiles grins at me, as Mom steps into the room, with Noah, his mannerisms betraying his pride in Stiles. Sheriff Stilinski  looks fearful, well hidden but I can see his hesitation. He gives my mate a stern look, as Stiles bounces on his toes.</p><p>"Are you sure this is what you want, son?" Noah asks, face set in a stern scowl. "There's not as much wiggle room if you suddenly change your mind." Noah sighs, and I know that Stiles will always be like us, if he takes the bite. As Mom actually wants Stiles in his pack, he can't ever rescind the gift. There would never be a cure for my mate.</p><p>"I love Derek." </p><p>I freeze, looking up, into my mates golden brown eyes, his smile soft and warm. He... I had been terrified to say the words first. Terrified to tell this perfect creature how deeply I feel for him. I catch up his hand in the small cinder block room, murmuring, "I love you, too, my mate." I place a soft kiss to his mole dotted skin, and his hand moves to cup my cheek. "Stiles, I love you."</p><p>I don't even register the fact that Noah had left, nor that Mom had closed us in the room, before he's at my side. I find it nearly impossible to look away from Stiles' caramel eyes.</p><p>"Derek," Mom whispers, "may I, Pup?" I breathe in shakily, Mom gently taking Stiles' wrist for a true Pack Bite. I watch him trace the faint pattern of blue veins in Stiles' slim arm, his eyes pensive, and kind. "Stiles," Mom's blue eyes look up to my mate's, and he sighs. "This will hurt, but I want you to remember why you chose this." Mom lets his eyes bleed red as he inhales Stiles' scent at the wrist. He murmurs against his soft skin, "You will be the first Beta I have chosen. Scott had never counted, but you... You will always be my pup."</p><p>Stiles bites his lip, as Mom lets his fangs scrape gently over his skin, not hard enough to break it. "Last chance to refuse."</p><p>"I want it, Alpha."</p><p>Stiles gasps, as Mom sinks his teeth into his flesh, and both sets of eyes drift closed. I feel the bond grow from a tenuous link to my mate, to a bond as strong as any I've felt, as Stiles fully becomes Pack. It's like an unbreakable tether between us, one connected to Stiles, and one to mom. As he pulls away, Mom's eyes flare a brighter red as the bond is cemented.</p><p>"Uh, Uncle Peter, is this normal?!"</p><p>Deep blue ink blooms across Stiles' skin, spreading out from the rapidly healing bite, swirling midnight like living tattoos on his skin. I cradle his fear filled face in my hands, as my mates eyes burn a deep, glowing indigo. </p><p>"Mom, what is this?" I look to him, as he shakes his head, as awestruck as I am at what is going on with my mate. </p><p>The swirls of ink settle into archaic navy runes, shifting across Stiles' arms, and Viking knots dancing over his chest. I pull Stiles into my arms, kissing his shoulder, as a navy fox frolicks on his back. "It's going to be okay," I whisper, half to myself. "You're going to be okay."</p><p><br/>"Remarkable," Mom murmurs, examining the shifting runes. "I do believe this is Elder Futhark, in some sort of bastard Norse." Mom clicks his tongue, giving my mate a look. " you always had to be original, didn't you, Pup? "</p><p>"What am I?"</p><p>Stiles' voice is weary and small, as he trembles in my arms. I run my hands over his skin, and they tingle when I brush over the magic ink. At least he's safe, I tell myself. At least he's alive.</p><p>I have to focus on those facts, and not the vast unknown.</p><p>"I've never quite seen this before," Mom says, as he runs a hand over Stiles' short hair. He sighs softly, as he looks into my mate's eyes. "But the Hale vault would certainly have answers." He smiles, as Stiles' eyes flash indigo. "My sweet pups." He draws us into his arms, calming us with his Alpha scent.</p><p>"Honeybee?" Dad's voice calls, as the heavy steel door swings inward. His tazer enters the room before him, as he looks warily around the corner. Seeing Stiles' transformation elicits a chuckle from my father, and he mutters, "Well, that's a surprise."</p><p>"Dad?" I ask, not releasing my mate, but looking to him as he stares. "Have you ever seen this before?"</p><p>"Seen? No, not personally, at least." Dad's grin twists, as he sighs, running a hand over his mouth. "But I've heard stories. My grandfather met one in his late teens, and was hard pressed to live to tell the tale." Dad looks to me, asking, "Is there an animal?"</p><p>"A fox, on Stiles' back." I brush my hand over his skin, only to feel sharp teeth cutting into my finger. I jerk my hand away, a growl on my lips. It bit me!</p><p>"Easy, son. A Druid's animal totem doesn't often take kindly to strangers." Dad gives me a chuckle, adding with a wink, "Some can have a vicious bite."</p><p>"Ah - what, excuse me? What am I?"</p><p>Stiles jumps back as the navy fox on his back stalks to his front, eyeing one of the trailing knots. Its stylized paws creep over my mate's skin, as he stares at the tattoo.</p><p>"What the hell is this?!"</p><p>Dad hums, leaning against the wall. "The African tribes called them Shamans, the Native Americans called them medicine men or rarely, skinwalkers. Celtic clans acknowledged them as Druids, and in medieval Europe, they were well known, by many names." Dad looks at Stiles with a wry smile, listing the names of what he was, "Witch, Warlock, Alchemist, Wizard..."</p><p>Stiles looks up sharply, as he attempts to convince his totem to stay. I growl at the beast when it bites my mate, not even it is allowed to hurt him. The creature bristles, its midnight fur standing on end as we lock eyes. Dad reaches out to put a hand on my shoulder, a cue to take it easy.</p><p>"You have magic, Stiles." Dad smiles at him, as Stiles watches the tattoo fox chew on a piece of the rest, glaring at me as it does. He looks up at my dad, eyes instructing him to fix this. "You have to learn to control it. You're a Druid, Stiles."</p><p>"Holy fuck."</p><p>"Language," Mom chides, studying the patterns of the runes. "It's rather fortunate that you enjoy research so much, Pup. You have a lot ahead of you." Mom gives my mate an ironic smile as he grins, excited at the new project. "But not yet. It's nearly bedtime." </p><p>"But—"</p><p>"We're bonding as a pack." Dad wraps his arm around Mom, kissing his temple. "Allison, too," he adds, looking like he was daring us to object. I nod, tugging Stiles closer, and he looks up at me, giving me big, pouting eyes.</p><p>"Pack bonding is important, love," I murmur, shaking my head. "I believe you called it a puppy pile." I can't help the smirk on my face, knowing I'd caught him. He huffs, giving me a heatless glare and stalking out of the room.</p><p>"What the hell?"</p><p>Stiles had obviously forgotten that his father was still here, waiting for him in the living room. I grin to myself, knowing there was going to be a lot of questions from the sheriff, and I leave the bunker to rescue my mate from the human's wrath.</p><p>"I swear it's not my fault!" </p><p>Stiles gestures wildly, eyes looking around the room for help as his father glares at the tattoos, his arms crossed across his chest. Mom sighs, taking Noah to the door, as he explains what had happened.</p><p>"My concern is how we keep this hidden," Dad mutters, looking at the shifting marks. "Tattoos aren't meant to move on their own. Or move at all, for that matter."</p><p>"I can wear long sleeves..." </p><p>Stiles grins sheepishly, unable to do much else. Unless there was a way to make the markings disappear temporarily, he could only hide them under turtlenecks and long sleeves. Of course, that's only if the damn fox wouldn't creep up.</p><p>As Stiles is debating the best way to hide his new marks, Allison can't stop giggling at the spectacle we all present. I can't wipe the grin off of my face completely, either. This was a classic Stiles situation, from what I've seen so far from my mate. He has had a flair for the dramatic these past five days. He simply can't stop himself.</p><p>Mom returns, his expression serious, as he takes a seat on the couch next to Allison. She smiles, leaning her head on his shoulder as she went back to reading her book. Mom hums, gently petting her hair.</p><p>"Allison, if you..." Mom pauses, rewarding. "Allison, you don't have to be a werewolf, but I would like you to be part of the Pack..." He kisses her hair softly.</p><p>"Okay." She nods, straightening up, her face set. "I want to be pack." She pushes up her sleeves, looking at Mom, her eyes kind. "I want to be your daughter."</p><p>Mom sighs, smiling as he cups her face, and I can hear Allison's steady heartbeat, and smell the trust she has in Mom. "Alright." He carefully takes her arm, pressing her wrist between his human teeth just enough to indent the skin. I feel the new bond form with my sister, not as strong or powerful as the one with my mate, but the right amount for a simple pack mate.</p><p>"That was it?" Allison rubs the slightly red mark, frowning. </p><p>"Yes, pup. That was it."</p><p>I follow Stiles to our den, and tug on sweatpants as he digs in his bag for some pyjamas. As the creature on his skin glares at me, I pull a shirt out of my duffle, putting it on, just to be safe.</p><p>Its teeth are sharp.</p><p>I wrap my arms around my mate, as he finishes brushing his teeth, and I bury my nose in the curve of his shoulder, where his mating gland would be, were he a full blooded werewolf. He burrows into my embrace as my inner wolf purrs. I have my mate and my pack, nothing could upset him now.</p><p>"I think Todd will just have to get used to you," Stiles says, humming. He traces the hair on my arms, and cranes his neck to smile at me.</p><p>"Todd?" </p><p>He mock gasps, affronted. </p><p>"Have you never seen the Fox and the Hound? Like ever?" </p><p>I shake my head. It wasn't entirely my fault, since Talia kicked me out of most movie nights as a pup. I'd only ever watched movies with Mom, when I came to stay for a while.</p><p>"Please tell me you've at least seen Star Wars."</p><p>"Of course I've seen Star Wars." I give him a flat look. "Everyone has seen Star Wars." I raise my eyebrows as he turns in my arms, his hands cupping my neck. He rests his head on my chest, and I run my nose along his hair, murmuring, "You should let your hair grow."</p><p>"<em>You</em> should let <em>your</em> hair grow."</p><p>"Alright?" I ask, puzzled. My hair was of pretty average length for a male, not ridiculously short like his. "How much longer do you want it?"</p><p>He blushes, and I can feel the heat of his cheeks through my shirt, as his fingers rub the scratchy hair above the collar of my shirt. I usually shave my chest hair, as Laura didn't like it, but...</p><p>"You like your boyfriends hairy?" I ask, and he nods, his face growing warmer. I kiss the top of his head, sighing. "I won't shave then, if that's what you want. But I'm not growing a beard."</p><p>He giggles, and I tug him to Mom's room, late enough as is. Mom sleepily shifts as we slip in, holding back the covers for us.</p><p>I let him pull me close, holding Stiles to the curve of my body, and reach over Allison to twist my fingers in dad's shirt, knowing my pack was here. I feel Allison's foot touch mine unconsciously, and dad shifts closer to all of us, his arm draped over to rest on Mom's hip.</p><p>My wolf paces softly before settling down with a rumble, as my eyes drift closed. My pack was safe, and that was all that mattered right now.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Warning: Smut ahead.</p><p>Also Warning: Kate Argent</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><br/>🌙<br/>{Peter}</p><p>I wake up long before my pups, another nightmare fading from my mind as I naturally check on them through the Pack Bonds, feeling Allison's pleasant dream, and the intertwined feelings of Stiles and Derek. I could feel my Christopher staring at me, as I brush my hands over our pups. I chuckle, giving a firm tug on his bond, just to startle him. It serves him right for not waking me.</p><p>I shift closer, getting more comfortable in our crowded bed. "Enjoy the view?" I ask, my smirk in place, and I link our hands. I couldn't be more soothed in my mind, as my mate softly rubs my hand.</p><p>"I always have, honeybee." Christopher murmurs, as I open my eyes lazily. He gives my fingers a gentle squeeze, and I smile, feeling his love for me across our connection. "You're so beautiful Peter."</p><p>"Stop, I know you're trying to get in my pants." I feel the good half of my face blush, knowing exactly how I look. Monstrous is as apt a term as any.<br/> <br/>"Peter, when I see you, I see the same beautiful boy I fell in love with over twenty years ago." Christopher's heartbeat never stutters as he says it, but... I can't believe he still thinks I'm beautiful. It's too alien of a concept for me to grasp.</p><p>I hum, half a laugh, half a sigh, as I give his hand a tug, holding him closer to me. "I love you, foolish old man." I can sense at the very least Stiles is waking up, and I mentally prepare for the activities of the day. "Do you want to take the pups to breakfast?" I ask, looking at Chris's smile.</p><p>"Of course. Make it a family outing." I can hear the joy in my mate's voice, that he could take his family somewhere special, and not have to worry. I nod, giving him a grin as he leaves the bed, going to the bathroom as Stiles stirs.</p><p>I try to quiet my sleeping pups, especially Derek, as his peaceful dream turns dark. Stiles' movements cause Allison to border on waking up, and Derek curls into me, trembling.</p><p>"Der?" Stiles shifts closer to his mate, his sleepy voice breaking the silence. "Babe, you're having a nightmare..."</p><p>I prop myself on my elbow, gently holding my son as he whimpers in his sleep. "Derek," I mutter, "Derek, it's time to wake up." I look at Stiles, catching a glimpse of his totem on his throat, its navy eyes watching carefully. Stiles is stroking Derek's face, his own creased with worry.</p><p>"Stiles, can you feel your bond with him?" I ask, holding Derek still as he shifts about, struggling under the nightmare. "Tug on it, gently. Let your mate feel you with him." I smile encouragingly, as Stiles concentrates.</p><p>My son in law squeaks, as the arm Derek has about his waist tightens, pulling him closer. I sigh in relief, as Allison fully awakens to Derek's soft growls. My pups were fine, we're going to be fine.</p><p>I long to erase these horrors from his mind, long to take away the pain and heartbreak that my poor son has gone through. But the consequences  of interfering with the memories can be even more damaging to his mind than not doing anything. I can still feel the gaps in my mind from Talia's meddling, and fear what other things have been stolen from me.</p><p>I leave the worries for another place and time, and turn to comforting the pups after the early fright. "It's alright, we're safe." I place a soft kiss to Derek's shoulder, then Stiles and Allison's foreheads, as Chris emerges from the bathroom.</p><p>I let the children go to their own beds, pulling my mate back into the en suite, and lean against the door. "Derek had a nightmare, and I don't believe it was the first."</p><p>Chris sighs, taking me into his strong arms, and I lean my head against his chest, taking comfort from his embrace. "We can look into therapy. Preferably someone in the loop." He kisses my hair, as I sigh.</p><p>"I know a few people. Contacts in the supernatural community." I shake my head softly, simmering rage bubbling in my chest as I think back on what that monster did to my son.</p><p>"We'll handle it as a family, honeybee," Christopher whispers, holding me to him. I rest my head on his chest, my arms encircling his waist. "It's not just you anymore, Sweetheart. I'm here." Christopher tilts my face up to his, holding me as delicately as if I were a China doll. I smile softly, kissing his palm.</p><p>"I fear for the Argents," I mutter, a wry grin on my face. "They have no idea what's in store for them."</p><p>Chris nods, kissing the tip of my nose. "No one gets to harm my family." He chuckles, adding, "Or Stiles, I suppose."</p><p>"Stiles is as good as ours," I agree, gently releasing my mate to go about my daily necessities. As I'm rinsing the toothpaste out of my mouth, I feel a slight pinch, below and to the right of my navel, almost halfway to my groin. Frowning, I rub at the spot, having gone without the sensation for so long. I'd almost forgotten what the small pains meant, and I hear Chris's question dimly. "I'm ovulating..." </p><p>"Peter?" Christopher's hand gently overlaps mine, his eyes soft in the bright light of the vanity. "Why do you sound so surprised? You used to every month."</p><p>"My body was under too much stress after the fire. But an Alpha's healing certainly helps get your system regular." I let my hearing sharpen, listening to ensure the pups wouldn't intrude. "Darling," I swallow nervously, as I grow damp in my pyjamas bottoms, my entrance begging to be filled. "Darling, I..." I look up into Chris's eyes, a soft hopeful smile on my lips. "I've always thought that four was a good number."</p><p>"I think four is the perfect number," he rumbles, his hands moving to twine into my hair, and I grind against him, desperate for friction on my hardening cock. Chris is ready for me, as he pulls me into a devouring kiss. "Do you need any help?" He groans into my mouth, his hands tilting my head so he could mouth over my mating gland. </p><p>I keen at his attention to my weak spot. "No, I... I haven't been this ready since we made Derek." I groan, my bottoms now soaked with moisture, both from my leaking cock, and my clit. I can feel my eyes are burning red, but I can't do much more than moan for my mate to fill me.</p><p>I have been so empty for so long.</p><p>It seems almost like we're teenagers again, as we fumble with our clothes while refusing to part. Christopher shows off his delicious muscles as he lifts me onto the counter, and wraps his sinful mouth around the part of me that has always been his. I gasp, desperate to thrust into the warm wetness, and he pulls off with an obscene pop.</p><p>My hand picks up where his mouth left off, as he chuckles softly. "Is it just me, or are you a few inches bigger?" I pant into his mouth whimpering softly as he eases in. "God," he groans, and rocks a little further in.</p><p>I wrap my legs around his waist, changing the angle so that the drag of his skin on mine makes me want to scream. "So, so good, darling." I rock my hips to meet his, my head falling back against the mirror. "Missed this." I whine as he nibbles on my neck, nearly taken to pieces as his teeth graze my gland. "Do it," I gasp. "Please, Chris, bite me. Make me yours."</p><p>"And you'll make me the same?" He groans against my skin, his hips hitting my pelvis with the filthy sound of skin slapping skin. "You'll take me as your mate?" I nod, panting as he sets his teeth to me.</p><p>I place my fangs over the same spot on his neck, where his gland would lie, were he a Wolf, and whine through my teeth, as his break my skin. I can't help the reflex, as I bite down, and climax, when his teeth burst the tiny organ in my neck.</p><p> I shudder as he fills me, satisfying all of those neglected places inside me. All too soon, he slides out, and I let go of his neck, looking at my mate, with my blood on his lips. "I love you, Christopher." I smile as tears wet my face, and he pulls me into his arms. </p><p>"I love you too, Sweetheart." Christopher softly pets my lower stomach, rubbing at my womb.</p><p> I chuckle, nosing at his shoulder. "Excited?" I ask, as I monitor my scent markers, detecting the subtle shifts as my pheromones announce my impending pregnancy. "It's taking."</p><p>"I just wish I could have been there the first time." Chris leans to press kisses on my stomach, his hands massaging my hips. "How can I ever make it right?" I pet his hair, humming.</p><p>"You already have," I murmur, closing my eyes as he lavishes affection on his child forming inside my uterus. "You're here, loving me, caring for my," I pause, swallowing against the tightness of my throat. "Caring for our pup." I shudder as he grabs a washcloth to gently clean my clit, and wipe the fluids off of my legs. "Christopher, you never needed to make up for anything." </p><p>"I left you. I could have fought harder." Christopher looks up at me, as I still am trying to recover from the earth shattering climax I had. He takes me in his arms, and I cling to him, locking my legs around his waist and licking the blood from his mark. "I'll never leave you," he murmurs, "not again."</p><p>"I know." I pet his hair, kissing the newly healed scar. "I know."</p><p>🌙<br/>{Chris}</p><p><br/>Allison is already in the kitchen by the time I drag myself away from Peter, headphones in her ears as she pulls out ingredients for breakfast. "Sweetheart," I call as I adjust my watch strap and lean on the post by the kitchen. She doesn't hear me, either that or she's not paying attention, so I call a little louder, "Allison."</p><p>My daughter jumps, tugging out the earbuds, she turns sheepishly. "Hey, Dad, just thought I'd get breakfast going." She blushes, biting back a laugh as she inspects one of the extravagant eggs Peter insists on buying. I grin myself as she asks, "Why do we have Easter eggs in September?"</p><p>"Well," I say, "Peter told me years ago how the blue eggs are better tasting. Apparently they come that way naturally." I step forward, taking the oddly tinted egg and holding it gingerly. "His eggs always were better than mine, however, so he may have a point." I can't stop the smile from forming on my face as Allison giggles, and I place a kiss on her forehead. "We're going out for breakfast. Mom thought you kids would like it."</p><p>I leave off the comments of how it might be closer to a brunch, with Derek's nightmare this morning. I don't want her to worry too hard, don't want to burden her slim shoulders even more.</p><p>Allison smiles as we put the food away, but I can tell that there's something else on her mind. With the way Victoria had always been, I knew she would be hesitant to ask. So, while I wait for her to tell me, I busy myself with making coffee, working the fancy machine Peter insisted upon.</p><p>I'm lucky I worked my way through college at the campus cafe. You needed a manual just to get a simple cup.</p><p>By the time I've crafted Peter's cappuccino, and my plain black coffee, Allison is fidgeting by the stove, and she mumbles something unintelligible. </p><p>I put my cup down, scrutinizing my daughter for what she could be so afraid to ask. "Allison, you can ask me anything. I promise, I won't be angry." I sip my coffee, pausing before I add, "If it's about Peter, or —"</p><p>"No, umm," Allison brushes he hair behind her ear, and hugs herself defensively. "What did Aunt Kate do to Derek? Why does he have nightmares?"</p><p>I nod, biting my lip. "Ah. Well," I sigh, running my hand over my mouth. I didn't quite know how to explain this. "I know you didn't hear a lot back at the house, but..." I shake my head, the words betraying my burning anger at the monsters I called family. "Kate raped Derek, when he was thirteen. And she burned down his home, with the majority of his  family inside. Mom was lucky he made it out alive."</p><p>"Oh." My daughter takes a deep breath, her mouth pressed into a trembling line. "That's why he was afraid of me. He thought I would hurt him, like she did." Allison moves to perch next to me at the kitchen island, and rests her head on my shoulder. I wrap an arm around her, trying to give any comfort I could. </p><p>"Dad?" Allison whispers, and I kiss her hair, my thumb rubbing her arm. "Dad, Victoria and Kate, they have to answer for what they did. I won't let them hurt my family any more."</p><p>"I know, sweetheart. They will, and everyone involved." I know that with the information I gave Noah yesterday, it would be a miracle for the hunters to get away unscathed. Victoria had just as much a hand in operating the cartel as Gerard. And Kate couldn't weasel out of the recording.</p><p>Those three I would definitely be seeing in hell.</p><p>I look up as I hear Peter's voice, and three sets of footsteps on the spiral staircase. He's quietly reassuring Stiles of Lord knows what, and I hear Derek's equally quiet affirmations, as I see my three werewolves coming down for breakfast. Well, my two werewolves and one druid.</p><p>"Darling," Peter turns his big blue eyes on me, full pout on his face as he pleads. "Will you please tell our pup that he looks fine?"</p><p> My mate's dramatics usually have a valid point, I glance over to Stiles, as he fidgets in his chunky sweater and skinny jeans. By their size, they must have been Derek's, a few years ago. It was actually a pretty well put together outfit, all in all.</p><p>"Stiles, you look fine. Quit causing trouble." I hand Peter his slightly cooled coffee, kissing his cheek as he takes a seat next to me. I chuckle as we watch our young pup try to figure out the complicated machinery involved in a simple cup of coffee.</p><p>I ponder giving him some help, but his antics are increasingly more and more entertaining as he presses buttons at random. Until, of course, the machine spits a jet of steam, causing Stiles to squeak, and accidentally turn it to frozen vapor, his magic acting instinctively.</p><p>"Love," I murmur in Peter's ear as he curls into my side, "we really need to train him." Stiles swipes his hand through the icy mist, and apparently gives up with a grumble. "I'm afraid if you don't train the puppy, you won't get to keep him."</p><p>"I know," Peter admits, scoffing softly. "But he is rather adorable." My mate snickers as Derek attempts to teach Stiles the intricacies of the expensive machine, to no avail. "I'll fetch the books I need from the vault this afternoon."</p><p>"Alright." I kiss his temple as Stiles and Derek lose interest in caffeinated beverages this morning. Stiles blinks at me, his face expectant as I raise an eyebrow. "Yes, Mr Stilinski?"</p><p>"Todd wants to know when breakfast is."</p><p>I give him a blank look, questioning my future son in law's sanity for a few brief moments. He groans, pulling up his sweater to motion at the inked fox currently chewing at another portion of the tattoos. "Todd! As in, the Fox and the Hound? As in, classic Disney?" He rolls his eyes groaning. "I'm surrounded by the woefully unfortunate."</p><p>"Alright pups," Peter announces, chuckling as Stiles makes a bigger fuss than even he would at something so simple. "We're going to breakfast, go put on your shoes."</p><p>At least Derek remains calm, as Allison and Stiles race to the entryway, jostling for a better seat in the SUV. I pluck my keys from the dish, as Peter ties a light scarf over the burns on his neck and chest, partially revealed by his sweater. I sigh, pulling him in for a gentle kiss.</p><p>"Don't," I whisper against his lips. "Don't cover them up. They show what you've been through simply to be able to call the boy you carried your son." I kiss him again, leaning my forehead on his as our breaths intermingle. "They show just how much you love our children."</p><p>He sighs, nodding as he takes it off. "I can survive a few questions." Peter huffs, placing the accessory back on the coat rack. "Hell, I survived an inferno. What harm can a few humans do?"</p><p>"Exactly."</p><p>As we pile into the car, I pull out my battered cell phone, placing a call to one of the places I had always taken Peter to when we were younger. Our photo is still probably on the wall, by our booth. </p><p>I answer the cheery, but hassled sounding hostess, as I pull out of the underground parking structure. "Hello, I was wondering if you have a table for five open." Peter takes my hand, smiling softly. "No rush."</p><p>"Let me check, can you hang on a second?" The young woman sets the receiver down, and I hear the background hum of the busy diner over the line. A few moments later, she returns, her voice a little less frazzled. "Yes, if you can wait just ten minutes, we'll be all set."</p><p>"Ten minutes is perfect, thank you, miss." I end the call shortly after, turning to Peter with a sly grin. "How do you feel about Jo's, honeybee?" I ask even though I already know the answer. I can still see the fresh faced teen who I fell in love with and myself, newly freed from  my two year stint in the community college, the ink barely dry on my law enforcement degree.</p><p>"Darling, I haven't been there since our second anniversary," he sighs, his eyes sparkling in the late morning sunshine. "Do you know that the first time I took you there, it was about all I could afford?" He kisses my hand, as his eyes shine with happiness.</p><p>I pull onto Main Street, winding my way though downtown Beacon Hills. Our old haunts pass us by, like the park bench where we shared our first clumsy kiss, and the old bookshop I'm amazed is still in business. Peter smiles at me, squeezing my fingers softly.</p><p>"Do you remember?" His voice is hushed, as if any loud noise would wake us from this dream. I glance at the old clock tower, grinning as he whispers, "You convinced me to sneak inside, and we carved our initials at the top."</p><p>I give him a look, quipping, "You convinced me to deface the public landmark."</p><p>"Semantics." He mutters, as I pull into Jo's diner, finding a spot in the crowded parking lot. I can still remember us two foolish youngsters, and how we'd make out on Peter's breaks under that same rusted street lamp, stealing every moment we could.</p><p>"I never thought we'd have this again." I blink away the moisture brimming up in my eyes, smiling at Peter. "I'd dreamt of it, but..."</p><p>"I know." He runs his nose along my shoulder, his eyes soft as he returns my smile. "It was like a wild daydream, and I wanted it so desperately to come true." He places a gentle kiss to my cheek, before we exit the car.</p><p>I place my arm protectively around my love's waist, holding him close as our kids trail behind. I can hear their playful squabbling even before I check on them over my shoulder, and suppress a chuckle at the sight.</p><p>Derek is holding Stiles' hand like it's the only thing keeping him there, while the druid and Allison bicker about something most likely unimportant. The quietly radiant smiles on their faces give me a sense of pride, that my children could be so happy. I'd never truly seen Allison like this, not since she was a toddler.</p><p>It reaffirms the fact that leaving that bitch had been the best decision I could have made.</p><p>As we enter the old diner, I wait for the hostess who had spoken to me on the phone, finding her shortly. I realize that she couldn't be that much older than Derek, as she gathers up five menus and utensils.</p><p>"You're the family who called right?" The girl, whose nametag said Jessica, asked, to which I gave a nod. "Alright, right this way."</p><p>The large oval booth in the front window is waiting for us, as our hostess leads us through the maze of tables. I grin as we slide in, offering to take the end for Peter, but he gives me a sour look, his eyebrow raised.</p><p>I roll my eyes as I settle onto the vinyl bench, looking over the menu, until I notice my mate. I smile to myself, as he pulls faces to make the staring five year old in the next table laugh. </p><p>"Oh, Jeffrey, it is not polite to stare!" The child's mother scolds, turning to us with a clear apology. Jeffrey giggles as he makes a face at Peter.</p><p>"It's quite alright," Peter tells her, biting his lip to look at the three teens hiding behind their menus. "I remember when mine were that age. I'm Peter."</p><p>"Melanie." The woman bites her lip, and I glance up to see the obvious questions in her eyes.</p><p>"I got caught in a house fire." Peter squeezes my hand under the table, and I hold his hand tightly. "I'm lucky to have made it out alive." Peter chuffs, as our children bicker quietly behind the menus, occasionally peeking at us. "And now I'm the parent of three teens."</p><p>Melanie laughs nodding, as he son plays with his food. "I've got a thirteen year old at a friend's house right now, so I know the struggle."</p><p>"Oh," Peter turns to me, smiling gently, "This is Christopher, my partner." I offer my hand to Melanie, muttering a hello. "I'm the luckiest one alive to have him." I raise my eyebrows, giving him a look at his clear reversal.</p><p>"You know exactly why I'm giving you this look, don't deny it."</p><p>Peter raises his hands, defensive, and grins at the other mother as we give our drinks orders to the young waiter. I place a gentle hand over Peter's stomach, still marveling over our miracle. He smiles softly, placing his hands over mine.</p><p>In that moment, I knew that whatever it took, I would fight for him. I would die for him, if it meant that my beautiful mate, and our wonderful children could live.</p><p>Just as I kiss my Peter's cheek, none other than that bitch I am forced to call a sister walks in, taking a seat not too far from us. I take Derek's hand, trying to give him any comfort I could as he trembles beside me. Peter growls under his breath, his Alpha power sending soothing ripples across the Pack Bonds.</p><p>Our drinks arrive in minutes, as I feel Kate's murderous eyes on us, yet I do my best to ignore that. I can't give her any sign of weakness.</p><p>"I'm sorry, pups," Peter murmurs. "I truly thought we could have this." I kiss his cheek, rubbing the spot with my thumb. "I love you, Christopher." His eyes close softly against the red filtering into his irises.</p><p>"So, this is where my gay-ass big brother goes when he leaves his wife?" Kate's voice brings the happy chatter of the diner to a screeching halt, and I simply hold my family back. I'm used to Kate's taunts, having heard them for almost thirty years. "Wouldn't have thought you would want to be seen in public with that freak."</p><p>"Well, are you here to admire your handiwork?" Peter asks, sipping his decaf coffee and looking up as Kate saunters over. "Or are you here to gloat over killing my niece?" His hand gives a slight tremble, and I hold it tighter, placing our palms against his womb.</p><p>"Neither." Her smirk is as cold and heartless as ever, as she leans on the table, showing her cleavage. Her dead eyes bore into Derek, as he lets out a low growl. "Aww, don't you miss me? We sure had some fun, didn't we sweetie?"</p><p>"I was thirteen." Derek's voice carried through the diner, eyes dark as he struggles to keep himself human. I squeeze his fingers, trying to keep us all safe. "I was thirteen, and you raped me."</p><p>"Well, it hardly counts, when you could barely get it up..." She snorts,  looking him over, and I mentally calculate how long it would take me to shoot her. "Clearly you're just as big of a queer as your pansy ass "daddy"."</p><p>"That's enough, Kate." I let her hear the tell tale click of me switching off the safety on my .45 and I see her blanch. "My family and I would like to have a quiet breakfast now. Please, leave." I lower my voice, so that only we could hear, "Before I take the law into my own hands."</p><p>I nod, calmly turning the safety back on on my weapon, and exhale.  "It's alright," I murmur to my family, my jaw set as Kate leaves hurriedly. "I won't let them hurt us. I won't let them split us apart."</p><p>Peter leans into me, nodding. "We're all going home after our breakfast. Noah needs to hear."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><br/>🌙<br/>{Stiles}<br/>🌙</p>
<p>School. I'm safe at school, right? I've got Lydia, Jackson, and Allison with me, I'm surrounded by people, so I should be safe.</p>
<p>I just don't feel at all safe.</p>
<p>I take a seat at our usual lunch table next to Danny, and Allison smiles at me across the expanse of laminate. Ugh, this stupid sweater. I adjust the damn thing, and yes, I know it's cashmere, but I just want my flannels back.</p>
<p>The ridiculous marks shift on my skin, and I just want to squirm at how irritating the feeling is. I can feel every single time they adjust, and that damn fox in the back of my mind won't shut up!</p>
<p>And then Lydia steals one of my cookies, and I just want to growl at her. Like, dude, nobody gets my food. Mine.</p>
<p>I adjust the jeans Mom had dragged us all to the mall for, because they were of course too small. Alright, fine. They  were the right size, and they hugged my ass nicely, but they still feel tight.</p>
<p>"Peter's trying to make me stylish," I grumble to the table at large, earning a giggle from the traitorous redhead. I glare, stabbing the salmon concoction Peter had sent with us to school, and eat the stupid bento box lunch. "I mean, I already have a boyfriend! Why the hell do I need to look hot?!"</p>
<p>"...To keep them interested?" Danny snorts, trading his apple to Lydia for a piece of my cookie. He seems surprised at how good it is, before he adds, "Besides, you have to keep up your looks, so you don't get competition."</p>
<p>I grumble under my breath, moving my lunch further away from the thieves I'm sitting with. I can't believe these people! "Steal Allison's lunch! This is mine!"</p>
<p>The fox in my head growls viciously at the jerks who think they can steal our food, and I try to calm him down. I can't deal with shifting in front of the entire school.  I picture Derek sitting next to me, smiling, and I calm, my anchor giving me the control I need.</p>
<p>Suddenly, it's like the entire lunchroom goes quiet, and I pause in eating my lunch. I sniff discreetly, and I just know that Scott is standing next to me, even though I've never fully smelled him before. It's probably the douche-y Axe smell. I mean, can you get anymore cliche?</p>
<p>I glance up at him, and my sarcasm takes its cue as I give him a look, taking a sip of my Gatorade. My fox turns up his nose at the guy I'd once thought was my best friend, even though I had no concept of real best friendship. Hell, even on her bad days, Lydia was a better person to me than Scott!</p>
<p>"Hey, uh, can I sit here?" Scott smiles like it physically hurts him, and I sigh irritatedly, as I begin to pack up my lunch. "Stiles, why—"</p>
<p>"Are you gonna insult and degrade well over half the table again?" I ask, giving him a sour look, because I don't feel like doing this again. I certainly don't want to deal with any more of Scott's bullshit. Not today. "Like it or not, a lotta people here have an interest in the same gender..."</p>
<p>Scott shrugs, his expression the exact opposite of contrite. "We can agree to disagree, I guess." He shrugs again, his eyes darting around the table. </p>
<p>I scoff angrily, snapping my lunch container together decisively. Danny stands, patting my shoulder as he glares at Scott. "Agree to disagree is reserved for pizza," he says quietly, "not for things like racism or homophobia."</p>
<p>One by one, my friends stand with me, and we leave, trying hard to find a place where we wouldn't be bothered by Scott. I pick one of the battered picnic tables out on the lawn, settling down in the middle of everyone.</p>
<p>"He's just such a jerk," I grumble, crunching on a carrot stick. Peter somehow loved the freaking purple carrots, and I mean, yeah, they were good, but they're <em>purple</em>.</p>
<p>"I can't believe I thought he was cute once." Allison sniffed, offering me one of her cookies to replace the one Lydia stole. I snatch it up, stuffing the entire thing into my mouth. Allison and the others giggle, as I try to chew it. "Mom was right, you need training."</p>
<p>"And how are you... You know, dealing with that?" Lydia waves around her half eaten apple, gesturing as she chewed. "With Peter as your mom and all."</p>
<p>"I..." Allison sighs, cupping her neck. "He's... He acts more like a mom to me than my own ever had." I grin, remembering the 'safe sex' talk he tried to give the both of us last night.</p>
<p>"Well, Peter's having another baby," I put in, as I take a drink of my water. "Apparently he and Chris decided four was the perfect number of kids." I shrug, wiping my mouth. </p>
<p>"Soo," Danny bites his pizza , chewing slowly before adding, "Surrogate?"</p>
<p>"Peter's intersex."</p>
<p>"Cool."</p>
<p>I drift as everybody aimlessly starts talking about the latest project for history. I can feel something pulling me towards the forest on the other side of the lacrosse field. I don't remember when I got up from the table, or the moment I started to walk towards the forest. </p>
<p>"Stiles?" I hear someone, probably Jackson, dimly, and feel him pulling at my arm. "Stiles you're scaring us."</p>
<p>I shrug them off, still advancing towards the pull that was taking me towards the forest, towards... "Something... Something's out there." My fox is yipping in my head, encouraging me towards the magnetic force pulling me. </p>
<p>I had to find out what this was, had to know...</p>
<p>"Stiles." </p>
<p>I hear Derek's voice, smell Derek's scent, and he pulls me against his chest. Pulls me back to reality. I blink owlishly back up at him, puzzled. "Stiles, your dad's here." His soft green eyes slowly draw me from the hazy fog of whatever spell I was under. I shake my head, trying to clear the tentacles of power lashing in my mind, like headless snakes, or the arms of an octopus.</p>
<p>"I... Sorry, I just..." I grimace, rubbing my forehead at the small headache building. "I think someone is out there." I exhale slowly, forcing the tension in my shoulders away. I cast one last glance at the darkened forest, puzzled by this new development. "I dunno what happened.."</p>
<p>Derek just kisses my forehead softly, and rubs my back as I try to come back to myself. "It's alright," he murmurs as he leads me into the school, and through the crowded hallways. I caught a glimpse of my dad waiting by the principal's office, and feel my stomach churn at his grim expression.</p>
<p>My heart starts to speed up, as Dad tries to think of what to say, rubbing his mouth, and looking between us. "Son," he starts at last, and my heart beats faster at his tone. Whatever this was, it wasn't good. "Stiles, I'm really sorry."</p>
<p>"Dad?" I try breathing through my nose, coaching myself through the impending panic attack, even as it gathers steam. "Dad, please tell me they're okay. Peter and Chris." I sniff, Derek's arm around me tightening as he runs his cheek over my head. The scenting does little to help.</p>
<p>"Stiles, they're fine. Alright? Your Alpha's fine." Dad puts his hands on my shoulders, looking into my burning eyes. I see the indigo glow reflected in his pupils as he coaxes me back. "There's just been another murder. Someone else was cut in half."</p>
<p>"Who?" I wet my lips, my arms pulling Derek in. "Dad, who did they kill?" </p>
<p>"He was apparently homeless. But Peter called him something else, an Omega." Dad sighs, clearing his throat. I nod, knowing what it meant. The guy was probably harmless, and the hunters killed him anyway. "They left him in a tree in the preserve."</p>
<p>"It's a message." I can't feel my face as I utter the words. "They're not going by the code anymore." I swallow nervously, looking up at Derek.</p>
<p> "It's Wolf Season, and every werewolf in Beacon Hills is on the menu."</p>
<p>🌙<br/>{Derek}</p>
<p>It's been two weeks since the Argents delivered their little message, and nothing has happened. </p>
<p>Well, nothing aside from my mate gaining a level of control over his magic. Which is a distinct advantage we have over the hunters. With Stiles on our side, we actually might survive the next moon.</p>
<p>I firmly clasp my arm around his waist, as we cuddle in our bed, Stiles' friends scattered around every available surface. I pick up one of his hands that were fussing with a stray thread of his sweater. He's been slowly managing to disguise his marks, the more he works with his magic. Still, he wears concealing clothes, just in case.</p>
<p>Out of all of Stiles' friends, I find I enjoy Lydia the most, her calculating mind always figuring the best way to phrase things.</p>
<p>"So, anybody want to talk about the elephant in the room?" Lydia clicks her nails on my desk, giving the room a look as Jackson shrugs. "You know, how the Argents want to kill you guys?"</p>
<p>"They're monsters. Simple as that." Allison glances up from her thick book on calculus, her pencil eraser between her teeth. "I mean, that's the easiest answer."</p>
<p>I rub Stiles' back, as he curls into me further, his eyes skimming over his textbook in my lap. Jackson's foot judges my mate's, and I feel a brief flare of jealousy at their unspoken conversation. "It'll be fine, Mischief."</p>
<p>I kiss his forehead, knowing Kate and Victoria's impending arrest was grating on his nerves. Stiles had been overwhelmed with the fact that his father was about to serve the arrest warrant for those two women, and I could feel his pain.</p>
<p>Noah had graciously agreed to a rotation of where Stiles would stay, and even allowed me to spend our nights apart from the pack together. My wolf nearly lost his mind when we were separated the first night. I couldn't sleep without Stiles safe in my arms. I had to have physical evidence of Stiles' safety.</p>
<p>Ever since, we stayed as close to each other as we could.</p>
<p>Stiles curls into me further, trembling as he rubs at his shifting marks over his clothes. His hand grips mine with bruising strength, and I tip his face up to mine, gazing into his caramel eyes.</p>
<p>I can hear his jackrabbiting heartbeat, and feel his quick breaths against my skin through my Henley. I gently run my hand up and down his back, trying my best to soothe him.</p>
<p>"Stiles is having a panic attack," Jackson mutters urgently, as the scents in the room sour in fear. I bite back my retort, knowing he meant for the best. I look up to my mate's best friend, blinking as my nostrils flare in anxiety.</p>
<p>"Stiles, it's alright, you're safe." I kiss his slowly growing hair. I pull him into my lap, trying to help him calm. "I've got you. I promise." I look down into his eyes and let the wave of helplessness crash over me as the indigo begins to take over his brown irises. "It's alright," I mutter, kissing his lips gently.  I can see the ink blossoming across his exposed forearms, and hear Lydia and Jackson's gasps of alarm.</p>
<p>"Der, I can't..." He wets his lips, blinking rapidly as his eyes burn indigo. "I can't hold it back..." </p>
<p>I nod, understanding coloring my expression. "Just don't bite me," I whisper, as Stiles' fur sprouts, his form blurring until he's a brown furred  fox crawling out of the clothes he had been in. His glowing navy eyes blink as he looks around the room, small noises coming from his throat.</p>
<p>"Umm, what the hell just happened?" Jackson asks, as I gently offer my hand for my mate to sniff. I didn't want him to turn on me, just in case I'm still a stranger to his fox. "That's a fox." Jackson looks between myself and my mate, his eyes supremely confused. </p>
<p>Stiles sneezes, his paw coming up to paw at his nose. He crawls around on the bed, investigating the surrounding area. His ears flick, swiveling around as Lydia hums softly.</p>
<p>"Bless you?" She poses it as a question, as Stiles sniffs Jackson's feet, then sneezes again, wriggling his nose and pawing at it. Stiles' fluffy tail brushes over my arm, and I feel goosebumps raise on my arms. "Umm, Stiles?"</p>
<p>Said fox in question was now interested in a sock he found in the mess of blankets on the bed, pawing at it, and tossing it into the air. I shift him away from me, and pull out the emergency bag of cheese puffs, tearing open the bag and setting them in a corner of our den. It's a fitting distraction until he shifts back.</p>
<p>"Stiles is a Druid." I settle back on the bed as my mate swiftly smells the cheese powder, and clambers over me and Jackson to get to the snacks. I settle back against my headboard, preparing for the onslaught of questions from the two non pack humans.</p>
<p>"This explains the turtlenecks." Lydia hums, nodding and trying to return Allison's encouraging smile. She looks at Stiles who is busily chomping on the snacks. He growls under his breath as he eats, warning her to back off.</p>
<p>I sigh, looking up as Dad knocks on the door, knowing Mom probably sent him to check on Stiles. "Everything alright, pups?" Dad asks, noticing my mate in the corner immediately. "Let Mom know when he shifts back, Derek, alright? Looks like we need a few lessons on anchors."</p>
<p>"He had a panic attack about the Sheriff." I glance to Stiles, as he licks the cheese from his chops. "He's usually good about it."</p>
<p>"I know, son. But with the Hunters around, we can't take risks." Dad gives me a tight smile, and I nod, opening my arms so my mate can crawl back into them. "I don't know any other way to say it, but Stiles is family. I don't want to lose him."</p>
<p>"I know what you mean, Dad. Stiles grows on you," Allison jokes. I chuckle as my mate gives an affronted yip. </p>
<p>Dad chuckles, patting the door frame as he gives a heads up for dinner before he leaves. I sigh, stroking the soft fur between my mate's ears, and giving him a loving scratch beneath his chin.</p>
<p>"Lydia, Jax, you can't tell anyone." Allison takes Lydia's hand, her eyes hard and bright, looking between the two humans. "It's why the Argents want us dead. Because Mom, Stiles and Derek aren't human, not exactly."</p>
<p>I focus on the comforting weight of my mate in my lap, as he cuddles close to me, settling into a peaceful half doze. "I'm a werewolf," I offer, as the red haired girl opens her mouth for a cross examination. I look up with my steel blue eyes, making contact with both Lydia's and Jackson's. "So is Mom."</p>
<p>Stiles squirms in my lap, kneading my thighs into a more comfortable bed. I can tell that he's calming himself down, almost ready to shift back to human. It's unequivocally hard to give up the shift, the animal urges freeing in a primal way. I wouldn't blame him if he wanted to stay a fox more often.</p>
<p>"Doesn't really change much, if you think about it." Jackson brushes fox hair off of his jeans, attempts to at least, and gives his girlfriend a shrug.</p>
<p> "Mom and I were born werewolves." I can't tell if my input is helping, but I feel the need to plead our case anyway, not wanting something disastrous to happen if Stiles' friend doesn't accept us. I know far too well the dangers of telling the wrong person.</p>
<p>I pull a blanket from the bed, and wrap it around my mate, as I feel his human self pull at him across our bond. Once he's fully recovered from his episode, I see the minute changes denoting a slow shift.</p>
<p>Within a minute, my mate is wrapping the blanket around his waist tighter, blushing furiously. "Sorry about that," he mutters, holding the only sort of modesty he currently has, and the other grabbing a pair of sweatpants from the drawers next to the bathroom door.</p>
<p>I grin as I hear the water run, knowing he's probably trying to get rid of the remains of the bag of Cheetos from his face. It's rather adorable, how embarrassed he is. It's not something to truly be ashamed of, but Stiles was obviously uncomfortable.</p>
<p>He returns a few moments later, a pair of my pants on his hips, and his tattoo looking smug on his chest. I let him settle back into my arms, though I'm careful not to put my skin in reach of his totem's teeth.</p>
<p>The creature in question currently is grooming itself, and my mate hurts, irritated. "Stop it," he mutters, as it begins to clean its groin. Stiles pokes the skin of his stomach where the fox lay, and repeats it until his totem moves. My mate's blush is undeniably adorable.</p>
<p>"So your tattoos are alive?" Jackson asks with a snort, adding derisively, "Alive enough to lick its junk?"</p>
<p>"I don't want to talk about it."  Stiles burrows  deeper into my arms, his scent denoting his irritation. I chuckle, stroking his back softly while avoiding his totem. I communicate across the Pack Bonds as well as I can that Stiles is human again. Mom should know, at any rate. </p>
<p>I kiss my mate's mole dotted, magically inked shoulder, content with my life as it lay. I had never felt like I belonged anywhere, before I met the perfect creature in my arms. He looks up to me, a soft smile on his face.</p>
<p>"Ugh! You two are so in love, it sickens me!"  Jackson tosses a pillow at us, which only ends up in his face as Stiles redirects it magically. "Cheater!" </p>
<p>Stiles just smirks, his eyes glowing navy.</p>
<p>"Hey! If you're going to do magic, don't hurt my boyfriend!" Lydia tosses one of Stiles' crumpled up magic formulas at him from her seat on my desk chair, grumbling under her breath. "At least do something cool." </p>
<p>Stiles smirks, snapping his fingers and the candle next to his friend jumps into life. The room fills with the pleasant scent of apple pie, as the wax is heated. "Cool enough for you?" </p>
<p>"Yeah." Lydia blinks at the small flame, before looking between it and my mate. "Yeah, that's cool enough." </p>
<p>As everyone settles back into their school work, I smell Mom approaching, his scent seeming off, like he was in distress. Before I could act on my instincts, he was at my door, his eyes red rimmed, and face puffy.</p>
<p>"Can I come in pups?" He asks, and I make room for him on the bed, my eyes never moving from him. I could barely imagine what had happened to make Mom this upset. </p>
<p>"Mom, are you... Is the baby..." I can't finish the questions as Mom perches on the edge of my bed, his expression soft as he runs a hand through my hair.</p>
<p>"I'm fine, Darling, so is the baby." He pauses, seeming to gather his thoughts as I gently rub my face on his shoulder, trying to give him some comfort from my scent. "I just never knew how ashamed of me Talia was."</p>
<p>"Mom?"</p>
<p>"I had another baby, a few years after my Christopher was taken. She stole even my memories of my baby." Mom softly caresses my cheek, tears threatening in his eyes. I whine, wishing I could help find my sibling. "She kept the adoption papers in the Vault. She gave my little pup to some... Some humans. The Whittemores, apparently."</p>
<p>Jackson's scent sours in some unknown emotion, and Mom's eyes spill over as he leans into me, his hand rubbing the scars from my aunts claws on the back of his neck. The scars from where she stole his memories.</p>
<p>"Peter?" Jackson asks, and I smell a different set of tears. "Peter, my parents are the Whittemores. A-And  I'm adopted."</p>
<p>Lydia's small gasp echoes in the quiet room, and Mom looks to Jackson, the familiarity I felt now making perfect sense. Jackson had our mom's eyes. The exact same shade of blue. Mom hesitates as Jackson sniffles, and he offers his arms to my brother.</p>
<p>I feel my heart warm as Jackson burrows into Mom's arms, my family finally completed. "I want to be a werewolf, mom. I want to be pack." Jackson holds him tightly, and I see my mom's joy as he agrees, in due time.</p>
<p>"My pups." Mom's hushed whisper fills me with joy, as he looks at all of us in the room. "My pups."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Pulling The Pack Together</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Heeeyy....</p><p>Sorry for the long delay. 😓</p><p>I had a major bit of writer's block. But I'm back with the continuing saga of the new Hale Pack. </p><p>Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>🌙</p><p>{Peter}</p><p>🌙</p><p>I look up as Noah reenters the office, his office, and the state prosecutor follows him in. I could hardly have imagined that this case could gain so much press that the state would step in. I grip my pup's hand, as Derek shifts in the seat next to me. This entire ordeal was never something I had wanted to put my sweet pup through, never had I imagined something like this could happen. I can only hope that as a family, we're strong enough to bear this struggle.</p><p>"Peter, this is Fred Jones, he's building the legal case on our side." Noah gives me a reassuring look, as he takes a spare chair, and pulls it up to his desk for the lawyer. "We just have a few questions about... The Argents."</p><p>I nod, moving my hand to cup Derek's neck, trying my best to soothe my pup. He's been through so much already. The good half of my face is set in a pleasant, neutral expression, but I can't tell how badly my scars interfere with it. "Ask away, we have nothing to hide." It's a white lie, one that Noah catches, giving me a frown out of the attorney's line of sight. I can't let it distract me at this moment.</p><p>"Well, I have a few simple confirmations I need, sir." Jones looks up from his portfolio, shuffling papers and blinking behind his spectacles. "You are this young man's mother, it says in your testimony."</p><p>"Yes. I am... I am intersex. Derek is biologically my son. He grew inside me." I give my pup a soft smile, rubbing the tension from his neck. "We don't need to hide it anymore. I'm so proud of you." My heart squeezes, as Derek smiles hesitantly, and I feel the Pack Bonds carefully, just to be sure he's alright.</p><p>"Now, Derek's father," Jones shuffles a few more papers, looking up again. "He is Kate's brother?"</p><p>I suppress a growl at the fear in Derek's scent as Her name is mentioned. "Yes." I don't hide the anger in my voice at that woman. She deserved to rot in a lonely cell, for the rest of her life. I would prefer to have her burnt alive, but legally it's impossible. Oh, how I wish I was.</p><p>"And Derek, Kate took advantage of you, when you were thirteen?"</p><p>Derek nods, his hand finding mine, as his scent radiates his pain. "Yes. She raped me." I lean my head on my pups shoulder, murmuring reassuring words, anything I could to give him comfort. My poor pup doesn't deserve this type of pain, and my heart bleeds that I can't protect him from this.</p><p>"Do you have proof? I'm sorry to ask, but—"</p><p>"Jones, we have a recording made by Chris, another victim of the Argent family, here at the station." Noah steps to Derek, standing behind him protectively. I look up at him, giving him a truly grateful look. "Kate Argent is heard bragging about her crimes. She also confirms the rape of her brother, by his ex wife, on the tape."</p><p>"I don't mean to seem like I don't believe you, but the defense team is going to pick apart every detail of this." Jones sighs, looking defeated as he closes his portfolio. "I need to know anything that might hurt us, please, any secrets, anything."</p><p>"I have nothing to hide," I say, squaring my shoulders. "The Agents killed my family, they kidnapped the love of my life, and they traumatized my son." My eyes flash menacingly as I fight my wolf's urges. "I can handle anything they throw at me."</p><p>"Alright." Jones looks between us, the Sheriff, my son and I. I can only hope he finds nothing amiss. "The arraignment is Thursday, and I will ask for detainment, without bail."</p><p>As the attorney leaves, I sag against my chair's arm, leaning into my pup. He returns the support, breathing in my scent for comfort. "We will make it through this, pup," I mutter weakly. "Somehow."</p><p>"We're stronger together," Derek replies, burying his face in my shoulder. I let him rub his face on me, scenting me instinctively, the way he has since he was a pup. Claiming me as his.</p><p>"Of course we are." I sigh, as Noah looks on, his eyes concerned. "I'm going to talk with the Whittemores later, about the situation." Noah nods, clearly knowing what the situation was, and I assume Stiles had informed his father. "I don't want to steal my son, but... They couldn't possibly understand him. Not like we can."</p><p>"You actually might have a bit of legal sway, if the adoption papers were forged by Talia." Stilinski glances up as a new scent comes into the room, a scent of smoke and brimstone. My hackles raise on instinct as the stranger enters the office.</p><p>"What <em>are</em> you?" I growl at the deputy whose scent makes my wolf howl with displeasure. He seems perfectly innocent, if not for the stench of death around him.</p><p>"Peter, this is deputy Parrish, my sister's boy." I whip my head around to Noah, my nostrils flared in mild terror. "We were hoping you could help us with that." Noah grimaces, rubbing the back of his neck. "Because we have no idea."</p><p>🌙</p><p>I put the irritating puzzle that is Stiles' cousin out of my mind as I step out of my car onto the well kept driveway of Mr and Mrs Whittemore. I slowly inhale, fighting the urge to simply offer Jackson my home, where he belongs. As much as I want to spirit away my pup, I need to do this right.</p><p>The house is roomy, large, but not excessively so, and the door well painted, as I walk up the narrow path. My hand falls instinctively to my stomach, still flat, but teeming with the tiny life inside of it. I vow that this baby would never have to go through what my other children have. This child would never be stolen from me. Not over my dead corpse.</p><p>I catch a glimpse of a shiny Porsche in the driveway, as I knock on the door, my hands fixing the soft turtleneck as I wait.</p><p>It's not long before a man opens it, looking irritated as I tamp down my nerves. "Yes?" He asks, tapping his expensive loafer clad foot on the hardwood. "Can I help you?"</p><p>"You are Mr Whittemore?" I ask for confirmation, swallowing. "I was hoping that you, your wife and I could talk." I brace myself, as I add, "I'm Peter Hale, Jackson's birth mother." I fight back the awkward embarrassment as he doesn't answer my question, and I can't imagine anything worse than this feeling. "I am, sir, Talia Hale stole my baby from me sixteen years ago."</p><p>The man in front of me blanches, his face going stark white as I smile hesitantly. As if on cue, my pup appears in the narrow gap between his adoptive father and the door, his face lighting up. I feel the awkwardness dissipate slightly as Jackson grins chirping my name happily.</p><p>"Hello, son. I wanted to do things right." I shift my stance, looking at Mr Whittemore as his face goes from white to red in anger. I guard my womb, prepared for anything.</p><p>"I don't know what con you're looking to pull, <em>sir,</em> but the adoption was closed." The file man sheets at me, his face disgusted, and I look down at my hands, unable to refute his accusation. I had biological male anatomical parts, even though I can bear children. And to add to the injury, I had purely masculine features: a strong jaw, muscled torso, large hands. But frankly, I wasn't truly male.</p><p>I bite my tongue, not adding to the insult he had given me, but apparently Jackson had a few things to say. "Well, <em>Dad,</em> my <em>real</em> mom deserves a chance to know me. He never wanted to give me up." Jackson gently tugs me inside, glaring at the other man as a small mousey woman steps into the foyer, taking in my son's protective stance between myself and her husband.</p><p>"Jackson, who is this?" Her voice is calm, but with a stern edge I instantly dislike. It brought back vivid recollections of Talia scolding me for wanting to wear feminine styles, and I distinctly recalled the sharp sting of her palm on my cheek. "Who did you bring into our house?"</p><p>"My mother." Jackson bristles, his shoulders raising as he stands between me and his "parents" as they take their eyes over my form, their faces radiating their contempt.</p><p>I sigh, placing my hand on his tensed shoulder, trying to calm him, not wanting this to be a bigger fight than it needed to be. I had resigned myself to others' disdain a long time ago. It's simply something I might never be able to escape, this sort of discrimination because of my appearance versus the physical capabilities of my body. No matter how desperately I try, I might never be able to be called my children's mother immediately by a stranger. Even if it is the absolute truth, no one can tell with a single glance.</p><p>Almost immediately after I make contact with Jackson's skin, he relaxes, leaning into my touch as he glares at the two adults. "Jackson, please, let's have a civil conversation," I murmur, a half smile on my face. He nods, his face still hard as he guides me to the parlor. I sigh, reluctantly admitting that the damage was here from before I came into the picture.</p><p>The Whittemores sit on the opposite couch from me and my pup, the wife looking possibly more hurt than angry, but I couldn't be sure. However, the man my pup had called "father" for the past sixteen years is livid.</p><p>I sigh, as I try to find a way to salvage this mess. It doesn't seem like an easily repairable thing, but I have to at least make an honest attempt. "I can assume that you knew nothing about Jackson's origins?" I ask, glancing up as Mrs Whittemore shook her head. Her husband did nothing, except stare holes into my chest.</p><p>"Certain genetic anomalies I have give me the unique ability to bear children." I inhale, and Jackson's hand finds mine, giving me the strength to continue. I look at my little pup, so much like me in appearance I don't know how I could miss it. I take a deep breath, forcing myself to continue.</p><p>"My sister couldn't handle my difference, and when I introduced her to my oldest son, she..." I swallow, fighting against the tears in my eyes. "She took him from me. Claimed that I was an unfit mother." I grip my pup's hand tightly, drawing on his courage to push on. "Even when I ached with the need to nurse my son, when I cried at night with the pain of not having my baby, she gloated." I pause, editing the tale for the supernatural aspects these humans couldn't understand. I couldn't tell them of the near death of my wolf as our baby was ripped from our arms.</p><p>"Two years later, I found another man who loved me. He…" I sigh, my lips trembling as I gathered my thoughts. "He was loyal and kind. I hid my pregnancy from her as long as I could, but I couldn't leave Derek there all alone. I could never abandon my babies, none of them." A lone tear falls onto my and my pup's interlocked hands, staining my skin with the wetness. I give Jackson a watery smile, trying to hold myself together as best as I can. "She locked me away, until Jackson was born. I wasn't even allowed to hold my baby after he was born."</p><p>"If all this is true, why haven't you made contact before?" Mr Whittemore's eyes are still hard, but his face has lost its anger, now it was simply cold and calculating. "Why now?"</p><p>"She... She did something, she stole my memories, erased years of my life. I only know this because I have the adoption records from her vault, and my journal from that time period." I look back at Jackson, my sweet pup, and he gives me a soft smile, giving me hope things will work out in the end. No matter what, Jackson comes first. "But my sister's hatred died with her. I can finally call my children <em>mine."</em></p><p>"And I'm assuming you want to have contact with Jackson?" Mrs Whittemore asks, reaching across the coffee table to take my hand, her own cold and clammy. I repress a shudder as I attempt to smile at her as another tear falls from my eyes.</p><p>"I just want to be a part of my son's life, ma'am." I whisper, looking at my pup, and his watery smile. "I can't thank you enough for being there when I couldn't. He's a good young man, because of you."</p><p>"Jackson, honey, what do you want?" Mrs Whittemore asks, her face hard beneath the surface. I can tell she knows his choice, or at least can guess it, and vehemently disapproves. I feel a cold she'll form on my face, even though I keep a pleasant expression.</p><p>Jackson himself seems torn, looking at me as I look at him, and drink in how much he looks like me. How I can see my features in his face. "I want to split time," he says at last, his eyes searching mine for comfort. I smile, nodding in affirmation, knowing I will give him whatever he needs. "Mom, Dad, I'm missing something that only my birth mom can teach me." My son looks down at our hands before looking back up to his parents.</p><p>"And I've been scared to say this for a long time, but..." I squeeze his hand reassuringly, unaware of what was coming. "But I'm bisexual."</p><p>I smile, murmuring, "It's alright, darling. It doesn't change how much I want you." I couldn't deny my pup, not when he's just the same as I am in tastes. I'd be the biggest hypocrite if I had tried to do that.</p><p>Mr and Mrs Whittemore however, seemed not to share my sentiment. The wife pulls back, frowning. Jackson's father's face was rapidly coloring again, and his wife's mouth was pressed in a tight line. "Well, perhaps you should just stay with your "real" mother, Jackson. If you're choosing that lifestyle," the vile woman mutters coldly, smoothing her skirt on her lap.</p><p>"What?" Jackson looks back to his parents, his ex parents, I should say, shock and hurt clear on his face. "Mom, Dad? What do you mean 'that lifestyle'?" I sigh, wrapping an arm around my youngest. He turns to me, eyes full of confusion and pain, and his scent rings ripe with betrayal, shattering my heart.</p><p>"They don't approve of, nor accept homosexuality." I close my eyes against the flash of red, the painful anger like icy needles in my chest, and Jackson breaks, his face crumpling in his realization. "I never should have let you go," I whisper, as my son cries into my shoulder, and I kiss his head, sighing as I do my best to console him. Over the next ten minutes, I do my best to help him pack his belongings, learning everything I need to about the way these people express love. Fancy belongings and nice clothes don't make up for the cold distance from those witches.</p><p>As we prepare to walk out of the door with the last load of belongings, Mr Whittemore calls, "Leave the Porsche."</p><p>Just as Jackson places his keys back on the hook, I vow to find him a better car than that overpriced pile of steel. My son should never have left my side, and I hope Talia is turning in her grave as I bring my youngest pup home at last. He'll never be abused like this again, not if I have any sort of say in the future.</p><p>🌙</p><p>{Chris}</p><p>🌙</p><p>I swiftly roll up my sleeves at the local shooting range, and after the day I've had, I desperately need to blow off steam. Dealing with my sister's lackeys was definitely no walk in the park. The juvenile delinquents actually had the nerve to approach me at the gas station, and try to coerce an apology. And not to mention, the pressure of my father's impending arrival grates on my nerves like a badly played violin. The screeching sound from <em>Psycho </em>is eerily accurate to describe the feelings.</p><p>I shake my head at the thought, as I fit the military grade earplugs into place. I know there's no sense in getting up in arms over all of this besides what we can do in the courts. Prepping my sidearm, I send out the target. The simmering rage lingering in my chest bubbles to the surface as I eye the flimsy piece of paper. It stands little chance of standing up to the force of my restless anger.</p><p>I exhale slowly as I line up the distant paper target in my sights, the entire world narrowing to the path of my bullet. I do my best, honestly I do, not to imagine Kate, Victoria, or Gerard as the final endpoint of the bullet's flight, but… Unerringly, their faces hazily swim on the surface of the black silhouette.</p><p>At least I tried, right?</p><p>I empty the clip into the paper target, letting my rage release as it gets destroyed. It's the safest way I can cool down that I know of. It's certainly the least destructive way to relieve the anger. I can't risk my family's lives by going for a run, just waiting for one of the Argent goons to ambush me. And certainly not when I know armed thugs are waiting for me to slip up. As soon as I make a mistake, I know they will wipe us out to the last child. Just as I know I can never allow that.</p><p>I press the button to recall my target, as I load another clip into my hand gun, waiting as the automatic retrieval system pulls it back. The precisely and accurately destroyed silhouette gives me a deep sense of pride, that I still have the skills necessary to protect my family. I'm ironically glad of the forced Hunter training, because it's the very skills they gave me that will take them down.</p><p>Just as I'm ready to load another target onto the hanger, I sense a presence behind me, with that same type of feeling I get when I'm being followed. Instinctively, I go to drawing my weapon on whomever happened to have a death wish. My hearing deadened by the earplugs, I use my other senses to make the call as to her safety. The woman raises her palms in surrender, a smile on her blood red lips. I lower my gun, tugging out one of the plugs, so that I could instruct her to leave.</p><p>Clearly, I can tell she shops almost exclusively at Army Navy Surplus, and even though I may not have my Peter's eye for fashion, I know well enough to know it clashed. The thought of Peter brings a small smirk to my face, and I suppose I simply have to bear the conversation. As tortuous as the thought is, I know that it's a necessary evil.</p><p>I tug out the small piece of silicone lodged in my left ear and give her a look, as she primps, and for the life of me, I can't understand why. I keep my gun firmly gripped in my hand even as I lower it. "Can I help you?" I ask sardonically, as she runs her eyes over my frame, and I resist the urge to cover myself. Instead, I raise my eyebrow in a challenge, a smirk on my face as she notices I've caught her. I guess she doesn't seem to mind that she's been caught in the act.</p><p>"Just wanted to compliment your skill." She smiles in a manner supposed to be seductive, and puts her hands in her back pockets of her cargo pants. She rocks back on her heels, humming appreciatively, and asks jokingly, "Ex-wife getting in your head?"</p><p>I roll my eyes, the comment stinging slightly in a way I don't care to analyze. "You don't know me," I grind out, harsher than was probably necessary, but I don't care for the assumption of a typical ex wife scenario. I exhale slowly, the familiar tension rising in my shoulders, once again my anger bubbling nearly at the surface. I glance over my shoulder at the intruder at the woman, as I place my gun on the counter, and prepare the second target.</p><p>Apparently she hasn't quite gotten the memo yet.</p><p>She smiles bashfully, admitting her guilt, but not seeming to care that I'd been hurt. "I probably shouldn't have said that." I roll my eyes in agreement, but tense up as she steps closer, invading my personal space to put her hand on my shoulder. "I was only trying to make you laugh." Her large brown eyes bat up at me, and I shake off her hand in mild revulsion.</p><p>I take a distinct step backwards, away from her as my hand closes around my gun again and my left hand unconsciously moving towards the knife I keep in my sleeve. For an unquantifiable reason, I don't feel comfortable with this woman, maybe it's her forwardness, or the cast to her eyes. Whatever it might be, I can't relax in her presence. "I'm <em>not</em> interested, ma'am." I try to take another step backwards, but my heel hits the sidewall of the part of the range. "I hate to have to tell you this, but I'm gay."</p><p>I hear her sharp intake of breath, I fight back the sneer forming on my face, as it's her turn to step backwards. I grit my teeth, shaking my head as she scoffs. "You don't look like it," she mutters in disgust, and I fight the urge to simply shoot her. That would certainly be putting my family in danger.</p><p><strong>This</strong>. This is the exact reason why I prefer not to tell people. This is why I would rather simply be out in public with Peter, than offer any sort of 'coming out' to the world. The inevitable rejection by the masses isn't something I need.</p><p>"You just don't seem like you're capable of letting a man do that to you," She snorts, giving me a look of such total contempt that it's almost too much to handle right now, when I'd only come here to safely release my anger. "You know what I mean," she taunts as I load a second clip into my gun, "let a man <em>violate</em> you like that."</p><p>I breathe slowly through my nose, chambering a round and waiting impatiently for her to leave. "Spare your homophobia for someone who gives a damn," I growl, looking her dead in the eye. I have had an incredibly long, difficult day, and I do <em>not</em> need this today. This is just another event in a long chain of terrible events today. I truly don't know how many more I can handle without snapping. "Go away, before I make you."</p><p>Just as I glance over, the light above my station flickers, and the light glints blindingly off of the silver bullet nestled in her cleavage, and I instantly pull my gun on her, my voice deadly quiet. "I will pull this trigger, if you come any closer." I can tell my hands tremble almost unnoticeably, and I raise my chin, leveling a steely gaze at the Hunteress until she admits defeat. "I'm done with the Argents.</p><p>"Such a waste," she spits, raising her hands and stalking backwards from my booth. I track her with my gun until she's well out of sight, my hands quivering slightly as I lower my weapon.</p><p>I can't help but think, <em>Good riddance.</em></p><p>I can't continue to stand in the contaminated space anymore, not with what had gone down. I resign myself to heading home, dread curling in my stomach at the thought of this whole affair. I don't want to let this get to me, but, no matter how hard I try to simply let it go, I'm still residually pissed by the time I hang up my coat back at home.</p><p>I notice a couple of new jackets on the rows of hooks in the hallway, a few I recognize as Jackson's, and I listen intently for anything amiss. Peter had expressed his intention to have a conversation with Jackson's adoptive parents early this afternoon, and I feel a mild pain in the Pack Bond I'm slowly getting used to.</p><p>"Peter? Kids?"</p><p>I try to be gentle as I follow the soft whispers towards our bedroom, knowing it was certainly more than just Peter in there, and most likely the rest of the kids. The only explanation I have is that somehow, something went wrong with Peter's talk with the Whittemores. I sigh as I push the door open and see the pile of bodies on Peter's unholy monster of a bed, sniffling and consoling the blond boy in the middle.</p><p>"I'm coming," I murmur, as Peter's big blue eyes blink at me sorrowfully. I shed my jeans and plaid shirt, settling into the soft mattress and gently curling around Peter's back. I nuzzle the nape of his neck, softly brushing my hand over our kids. "It's okay. I'm here."</p><p>"Dad?" Jackson asks, and I peer over my mate's shoulder to look at what is certainly now my <em>fifth </em>child, my eyes soft, and warm. I might not be the most perfect father, and I might have my issues, but I know what my kids need, more often than not.</p><p>"Yes, Jackson?" I give him a small smile, and wipe a stray tear from his cheek tenderly. "I'm here, I always will be."</p><p>"I'm bi." Jackson bites his lower lip nervously, and I nod. "I'm sorry."</p><p>Peter makes a soft noise of disapproval, and I kiss his shoulder, shushing both of them. I hear Stiles' soft reproach and I softly flick his ear, shaking my head at the pup. "I'm gay, Jackson." I give my second youngest child a soft grin, and add quietly, "So, if you're looking for some sort of reprimand, you might want to try somewhere else." I chuckle softly, giving my other children a fond glance, knowing that without a doubt, we were all in pretty much the same boat when it comes to sexualities. "I still love you. All of you."</p><p>Jackson gives me a watery grin, and I return it, pleased that, for now at least, I could protect and comfort my family. And I can only imagine how terrible the punishment will be for those murderers I am forced to call my kin. They were going to pay for every second I had lost with my Peter and our children.</p>
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